


Delicate Boy In The Hysterical Realm

by alienchrist



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Begging, Blow Jobs, Cock Worship, Consent Issues, Dirty Talk, Don't Judge Me, Dreams, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Masturbation, Murder, Names, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scars, Sickfic, Size Difference, Size Kink, Suicide, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienchrist/pseuds/alienchrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin visits a brothel to blow off frustration. Who he finds there might alter the course of his life, and the war against the titans.</p><p>Vacillates between unrepentant porn, angst and plot, and slightly-more-repentant porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the SNK kink meme here: http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/524.html?thread=1172748#cmt1172748
> 
> "First draft" updates will continue to be posted to the kink meme first, and here when I edit them to my satisfaction.

They didn't even make it to the bed the first time. Erwin had the slender blond boy by the shoulders as soon as the door closed behind them. They kissed. Erwin wasted no time plunging his tongue into that small, sweet mouth. The boy tasted of sunlight. He tasted like he spent the afternoon playing in a garden instead of holed up in a brothel, like they were sneaking away from an afternoon lesson for a tryst and _fuck_ Erwin wanted him. If there wasn't a corner in Hell for him for all the lives he put on the line and lost already, he'd be roasting for this one. He could tell himself the boy was the age of some of his finest cadets to try and sleep better at night, but he knew that was a lie, and it wasn't even one he really believed.

Good thing it didn't matter what he did. If humanity lived long enough to recount its history of this time, Erwin knew he would be known as a bastard one way or another. Maybe his accomplishments would be admired, but their terrible price would always stain his accomplishments. But if he was already a bastard for the good he'd done the world, there didn't seem much point in caring about the bad.

The boy squirmed in Erwin's tight grasp, struggling on tip-toes, making kittenish, hungry noises. His clever little tongue circled Erwin's. Erwin took his chin in his forefinger and thumb and pulled him back, admiring his soft, cherubic features. His hair was cut to the chin, his eyes periwinkle blue. He looked like a little bird, with soft feathers and tiny, cute movements, like his innocence was true, not feigned.

Erwin didn't know the boy's name. The madam told him it was Hyacinth, in keeping with the brothel's flower theme. It was probably nowhere close to his real name. The boy had to be called twice to respond. But Erwin didn't need to know his name, real or not, to fuck his mouth, and that's all he really wanted: a release. It's what he came to the brothel looking for, and Erwin staked his reputation on getting results.

The boy licked at Erwin's fingers, suckling them greedily. His tongue and mouth were a pink so delicate and vivid it was like a kick in the gut. The boy made a little sound when Erwin moved his fingers in and out, pushed and explored and tested, a needy noise that made his cock stand then and there. That's when he knew they wouldn't make it to the bed.

Erwin shoved the boy roughly to his knees and unbuttoned his fly. He barely had time to get his dick out before the youth was on it, licking flat-tongued and messy over him. 

"You're huge," the boy murmured.

"It's proportional," Erwin scoffed, "You don't need to act like you're impressed."

But Erwin almost wanted to believe the boy wasn't acting when he stroked his fingers over, such small fragile hands over his flushed, thick length. He regarded Erwin with a look of awe. Erwin's cock was more than happy to accept the look of praise by continuing to stand at attention. Erwin let the boy get his dick nice and wet before pushing his fingers into his mouth again. It only took the softest push for the boy to realize what Erwin wanted. He held his mouth open, tongue slightly hanging, as if asking then and there to be violated. There was a strangely blank yet rapturous look on the boy's face.

"Good boy," Erwin muttered, pushing his fingers in and out a few times for the sake of a cursory test. They made a soft squelch. The suction was impeccable. Erwin thought he must be trembling with lust. "Do you want my cock?"

The boy couldn't talk with Erwin's fingers half down his throat, but he did a good job nodding. He whimpered like a he was begging.

Erwin thrust into that perfect combination of wet heat. Those bright blue eyes, so keenly observant in the first moments they met, slid shut briefly as the boy began to focus on his purpose. He didn't have to concentrate too much, as Erwin urged him down his length inch by inch, until the boy's nose brushed curly hair, and then let him go.

He told himself he would savor the sight of it. The boy watched him again, as if trying to speak with him without words: look at what I can do to you. Look at how I love doing it.

He only held out the first time, when the boy let him out of his mouth with a wet pop. He could see the line of the boy's collarbone and the rise and fall of his chest through the scoop of his collar. His white skin was flooded with rose from the activity. The boy's mouth and chin were vibrant red, glistening with spit and sticky pre-fluid. A line of spit connected them still, silvery like a spider's thread. The boy licked his lips and wiped his chin idly with his fingers, which really only seemed to make the mess worse. He still had that dazed look, like the sex intoxicated him, like he needed more of his fix.

What a wrong thought. A boy who needed cock, _his_ cock.

"You like that?" Erwin asked.

The boy nodded, biting his lip. He lifted his long, loose shirt to reveal the fitted trousers beneath: his erection was clearly visible. Erwin stroked himself in sympathy.

"This turns you on, doesn't it?" Erwin grasped the boy's chin with his free hand, rubbing his thumb over his lips. That achingly pink tongue snaked out, tried to coax the thumb into his mouth. "Are you just that hungry for cock?"

The boy glanced away. Erwin yanked him forward, rubbing the tip of his cock over those swollen lips. When the boy tried to open his lips again, to lick, he pulled away. The boy gave him the most adorably annoyed and indignant look.

"Did you want something? I think you'd better ask nicely."

"Pretty please can I suck your cock?" the boy asked in a honeyed voice, batting his eyes.

Erwin found the impudence both endearing and annoying. He took the boy by the hair, yanked hard enough to show he was serious but not enough to cause pain.

"You don't need to be sarcastic."

"I - I thought you wanted me to beg for it!" the boy stammered.

"You've been begging for it all night, with your eyes. You've been looking at me like some men look at vine. Now your attitude's changed."

"Just do it already," the boy muttered. "You're bigger than most I've had. It feels really amazing, having my mouth and throat that full. I love it." There was something dark in the boy's voice, something almost painfully honest. Erwin didn't understand it, but he didn't have to. He guided the boy back to his throat. The boy parted his lips, and Erwin went in, splitting his mouth open wide.

He watched those lips and cheeks stretch wide as he took him hard and fast. Erwin took him rapidly and repeatedly, until he was more or less using the boy as a sex toy, just rutting into him with no regard whatsoever. His hair was soft in his fingers. His eyes teared up from the effort. He moaned like he was being fucked for real.

"I'm close," Erwin warned, and that just made the boy moan more. He sounded desperate: his narrow hips were moving, trying to fuck pleasure out of the air.

The force of Erwin's orgasm felt explosive. It had been a long time since he got this sort of release, and it seemed to last longer than usual, holding the boy in place as he filled up his throat with seed. Erwin watched the boy swallow and thought about that semen just sitting in his stomach. He made this innocent, Hyacinth, eat his spend.

He knew he had to do it again soon.

When he let go, Hyacinth slid back on his heels, sighing. Erwin could see he was still quite hard.

On an impulse, Erwin grabbed the boy by the hips, lifting him up onto the vanity near the door. He knocked a vase full of flowers off to the ground in the process. Fortunately it didn't shatter, just splashed out its contents and rolled away. Erwin didn't pay much attention.

He ripped open the boy's trousers. The top button went flying. His hand was too big to fit between the fabric of his pants and the boy's dick, so the boy wriggled out of them enough to make do. It was a clumsy, cursory hand job at best, but it was sincere, and the boy was close.

He wrapped his arms around Erwin's neck and held on tight, panting and mewling so much Erwin wondered if he was some broken thing. Hyacinth came quickly, arching and taught and squeezing Erwin so tight.

Maybe he'd have to do more than fuck his mouth next time. It would be worth the expense to bury himself in that tiny, tight ass. He bet he could make Hyacinth come. Maybe even beg, next time.

Some sort of clarity came to the boy once their respective orgasms faded a little. Gone was that needy, strung out expression. Erwin wiped his hands on the towels laid out near the bed, and handed one to Hyacinth.

The boy fought back tears.

"Did I hurt you?" Erwin asked. In the back of his head he could hear Levi mocking him for the concern. But surprise motivated his question rather than compassion. Moments ago the boy had seemed so into all of it, so ready.

"You couldn't if you tried," the boy answered with a tiny, listless shake of his head.

Erwin wiped off his now-limp cock and buttoned his fly, going for the door. It should have offended him that a prostitute said something so bold and honest, yet he appreciated it. The boy was the only attractive thing in the room. With his purpose achieved the lavish room seemed drab and lifeless. If he stayed much later the brothel's regular clientèle would start filling the parlor and rooms and there was more or a risk of being seen by someone he knew.

"You have me for the rest of the hour," Hyacinth reminded him. "You won't be discounted even if you leave now."

"I know," Erwin said, straightening his clothes. "But I have a lot of work to do."

"I understand," said Hyacinth, smiling faintly and enigmatically. "Take care."

Strangely, Erwin felt as though he might mean it.


	2. Chapter 2

Erwin refused to think of himself as some kind of secret child-fancier. There were stories, of course, of men with inappropriate obsessions: fathers, uncles, brothers and cousins who did disgusting, irreparable things. Wallist priests and teachers who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Erwin wasn't that kind of person. He was not a person to be loved or admired, but that had nothing to do with his proclivities. He simply did not find a lot of time to engage in sexual activity. Relationships in his early life inevitably ended with disappointment, or, after he joined the Scouting Legion, death.

Erwin also wasn't desperate, in spite of his lack of entanglements. He wouldn't have started going to the brothel if not for Levi.

It happened the third time in many weeks that Erwin asked Levi over to help clean his office. The first two times, Levi went about it with gusto. The floors and desk gleamed. The third time, Levi did not show up in his normal cleaning regalia. He leaned on the door frame with his arms across his chest, glaring at Erwin. Levi always glared at the world like every living thing was beneath him, but it was rare for that disdain to be aimed at Erwin in particular.

"You're frustrated and trying to clear your head. Cleaning obviously isn't getting the job done. Get out of here, drink some vine and have a goddamn orgasm already before you die of frustration."

"You're not serious," Erwin said.

"Am I ever not fucking serious?" Levi shot back. "If you don't have a bit on the side, go find some. If you're squeamish about that, just hire a hooker. You can afford it."

"That's inappropriate," Erwin protested.

"Because you're always so appropriate."

Erwin's upper lip twitched. Levi performed as a sickeningly effective and surprisingly obedient subordinate. But he pulled no punches in private. He saw it as part of his job.

And he _would_ use that moment to remind Erwin just how bad his impulse control could be. To everyone who knew Erwin as a commander he was the perfect portrait of impregnable discipline. Nothing fazed him. Not a pip on his uniform went unpolished, no strand of hair on his head out of place. But that was an illusion, such as all powerful leaders project. The pressure bared down on Erwin constantly, filling him with hairline fractures. The only way he knew how to shake himself free of those cracks was to lose himself in something anonymous, dangerous and physical.

Levi was an expert on seedy underbellies. He knew Erwin's well.

"Back alley boxing isn't the same as sleeping with prostitutes," Erwin said calmly, as if that needed explaining.

"No," Levi said, admiring his nails. "For one thing, sleeping with prostitutes is actually considered more or less expected of important people in Wall Sina. Depending on the prostitutes, of course. For another, you might actually be good at it."

"I've heard some of the women in those places were abducted from their homes in the countryside, only to be forced to work in places like that."

"Seems like if their homes in the countryside were behind Wall Maria that they lucked out," Levi said, sounding bored. "You're willing to throw soldiers, who have pledged their hearts to our cause and spent years of their lives training, out into a world where they'll be devoured in two bites without even blinking. Pretending like you give a shit about some whores you don't know makes you damn hypocrite."

"It's not like that and you know it," Erwin said.

"If you think it's so fucking bad, you can apologize to all the poor little whores when we beat these titans and make a world where no one's stolen away any more," Levi sneered. "But you've got it all wrong. I've known plenty of whores, and their lot in life is better than it might've been if they'd done anything else. What kind of life's in store for a girl whose family sells her for the money, huh? In this life, they get to choose their clients, and have fun on the job. Our soldiers don't even get to choose how they die, and most of them don't find the work that fun."

Sometimes Erwin wanted to ask Levi if he had any shame at all, but he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Anyway, I don't care what you do. I'm just sick of your constipated expression."

Erwin remained silent. Levi started to leave.

"So where should I go?" Erwin finally said.

"Well, the Garden's the cleanest, and it has the best selection for your tastes."

"My tastes?" Erwin raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, that part of his seedy underbelly remained unparsed by Levi.

"Petite and delicate guys. Not just smaller than you, but a lot smaller."

Erwin prayed a blush was not creeping up from his neck, or if it was, that it would not make its way to the tips of his ears. "It's not what you think."

"I don't think anything, except that I'm glad you never tried to put a move on me. I'd have shanked you and then I wouldn't have gotten this sweet-ass job."

"You're too bulky. And you're not my type, personality-wise." Which was a delicate way of saying Levi's personality was fucking terrible. Erwin knew Levi would understood exactly what he meant. "I wanted you to keep fighting on my side. That's all."

"Whatever," Levi said. "Just don't recruit any hookers. We've got enough aberrant types as it is."

 

Not long after that Erwin started visiting the Garden, a mansion at the corner of the nearest city. He went at odd hours so the other whore-mongers of town wouldn't see him. In spite of what Levi said, Erwin knew being caught at a cat house wouldn't help his reputation. As a commander, he needed to be something bigger and more important than human, something titanic in his own way. Needing a tender touch now and then, even if it was in the groin region, made him far too much a man.

Besides, he heard rumors that the likes of Pixis and Zackley frequented the Garden at nights, and the very idea of making eye contact with either of them in a place like that threatened to make him impotent forever. 

When he first visited the Garden, Erwin experienced a brief era of denial, ignoring Levi's observation of his tastes and going for what he thought anyone would want if they came there. Curvy women with breasts he could smother his face in, well-hung specimens of men oiled and glistening. There were massages, and blow jobs, and sex. After each experience, Erwin felt sated, and it cleared his head enough to go back to missions and tough calls and blood on his cloak. But at night, alone in his bed at HQ or in his tent, he replayed the memories of those encounters with a sense of sick emptiness, as if a hole opened in his stomach to drain all the pleasant memories out.

It wasn't enough. That was the complaint that came to mind. But what exactly would be 'enough'? Erwin was used to sleeping restlessly. It's all he deserved for the brave soldiers he threw away as if they were nothing more than the sketches of their formations on paper. Enough would be whenever he got to breathe his last wretched breath. Enough might never come.

After a particularly fruitful foray outside the walls (Hange named the new subjects Lariat and Jimmy), Erwin found time to pace his office, chased by miserable thoughts. He could pass the time with Levi, drinking an entire bottle of vine and subjecting to himself to various vulgar insults over chess deep into the night. Or he could work out that frustration in a possibly more effective way.

That day he went to the Garden and, clearing his throat in a tentative way no one in the world ever heard him do before, asked to see the younger workers. To Erwin's relief, the madam told him she did not deal in children, that all of her workers were old enough to join the military and therefore adults in the eyes of the law. The younger ones were just as varied as their more mature counterparts. Some eased into their roles and seemed perfectly at peace lounging in front of a perfect stranger, others looked a bit like children who got into their mothers' rouge. Erwin nearly gave up on the endeavor, ready to resign himself to being called fuckface by drunken Levi all night when he saw the little blond boy in the corner.

Hyacinth, as the madam called him, was not concerned with Erwin's attention the slightest. He stared out the window pensively. The sunlight turned his hair gold. There was something about the boy, a sweetness, a purity Erwin immediately craved. He wanted to taste it, like a jealous urchin eying a pie set in a window to cool before a nobles' feast. He knew nothing at all in him deserved to touch something as gorgeous as that boy, yet all he had to do was pay.

The madam called the boy twice to pull him from his reverie. Hyacinth crossed the room with an elegant, careful stride. Most wouldn't notice the pains he took to look as if he didn't walk to cover a limp, but that just endeared him to Erwin even more.

"Me?" Hyacinth said, raising his eyebrows and offering his hand. "Very well then, let's go."

The boy's hand was warm and soft. He used his thumb to draw tiny circles on the inside of Erwin's palm. He could make out the straightforward yet intricate black lines of the Garden's emblem - a chrysanthemum - tattooed on the inside of his right wrist. Many of the workers bore this tattoo.

"Aren't you going to tell me how great you're going to be?" Erwin asked as Hyacinth silently led him upstairs to one of the customer bedrooms.

"Is it necessary for me to do so?"

Erwin almost laughed at the boy's words, diplomatically stated yet so blunt in intent. "No. Of course not."

'Hyacinth squeezed his hand. Erwin wanted to fuck him right then and there in the hall.

They did make it into the room that time, but not into the bed.

 

A night after he met Hyacinth, Erwin found himself restless again. He didn't have the time to go all the way to the Garden and pay another visit. Instead he found himself revisiting the memories. The fevered sounds the boy made, the velvet heat of his mouth, the way Erwin's cock looked so huge disappearing past those plush lips. And his eyes, blue and clear as the sky, pupils large with desire.

The tension built in Erwin's balls. Without thinking, he unzipped his fly and began to masturbate in earnest at his desk, an activity he'd never once considered in his years of having that office. He imagined the boy beneath the desk, sucking him off while Erwin sat through boring reports. He wondered how much it would cost to purchase such an amazing little nymph. More than he was willing to spend. The idea of actually buying a person was a bit too much.

With a spit-slick palm and a firm grip, Erwin worked himself to completion, coming to the mental image of splattering the white all over that boy's face. So intense was his orgasm that his hips nearly lifted from the chair.

After cleaning up, Erwin quickly retired to his room, giving himself a cursory wipe-down before changing into his nightshirt.

He slept deeply and without interruption.


	3. Chapter 3

Four weeks passed before Erwin return to the Garden. Erwin's life amounted to many days of this: Soldiers eaten. Plans drawn and re-drawn. Letters of condolences dictated but not read. It tired him, but being tired didn't stop the sun from rising or titans from shambling, so he stayed the course.

Erwin returned the first day he could shirk duty even a little. He found Hyacinth sitting by the same window as before, gazing out. He looked like a flower blooming to face the sun. Erwin's fingers twitched with the need to pluck him.

He walked up to Hyacinth without going through the madam. He sat next to Hyacinth's perch on the window seat. The boy didn't seem to take notice until he drew that close. Erwin found that charming. What sort of thoughts occupied him so thoroughly that he didn't care whether or not a customer approached?

"Good afternoon," Hyacinth said pleasantly, his long lashes fluttering as he quickly overcame any signs of shock. Today, he wore a blue to match his eyes. His sleeves were long and wide at the end, creating an atmosphere of softness sweet as bluebells. Erwin wondered if Hyacinth chose his clothes, or if all of the workers were dressed to show off their assets every day before work. It was an eerie thought, imagining these young folks standing in a row, waiting to be dressed like a parade of motley dolls. Isn't that how most men must regard Hyacinth, just a doll in a toy trunk, waiting still and silent in the dark until he was taken out to be played with, dirtied, his ribbons mussed?

(What made him so different? He came back expecting Hyacinth to be there, and here he was, waiting, posed.)

"Good afternoon," Erwin said, "How have you been?"

"You don't have to pretend you care, you're paying me," Hyacinth reminded him with a gentle smile.

"And if I do care?" Erwin challenged. His own question surprised him.

"It's very boring here," Hyacinth replied in a tone that seemed to apologize things weren't more interesting. This probably worked on most people, but Erwin sensed how he deliberately dismissed the question.

"That seems unlikely," Erwin said.

Hyacinth said nothing more. He raised his chin, lips closed.

Erwin vividly recalled how Hyacinth looked with his lips and chin painted with spend. He reached through that memory and grasped Hyacinth's chin, not kissing him so much as forcing their mouths together. They met awkwardly, with the clack of teeth, but Hyacinth tilted in just the right way, offering the depths of his mouth.

Hyacinth sucked on his tongue, whimpering. Erwin touched the nape of his neck. His hands were large enough to fit right around his throat, though he would never do such a thing. At least not now. Not without asking.

It was Hyacinth who broke the kiss, cheeks pink, narrow chest rising and falling with slight exertion. He straightened Erwin's collar, smoothing it beneath his fingertips. Such a natural, domestic movement, as if they knew each other well, as if they were truly lovers. Hyacinth showed him affection when he certainly didn't need to, especially since Erwin probably pissed him off with that earlier probing.

"Please go make your arrangements with the madam. I'll be waiting in my room for you."

Erwin stood up. Hyacinth caught his hand before he left. A small, slender hand, so tiny in comparison to his, but Erwin felt the roughness of old calluses in his palm.

"Do you have any requests?" Armin asked. "An outfit, someone I should pretend to be, a nickname I should call you?"

"No clothes," Erwin said. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Hyacinth's wrist. It was the side without the tattoo, pale and sweet as milk, but marred with the raised flesh that comes at the end of a sharp blade: an ugly vertical line those sleeves hid before, white.

Hyacinth stared up at him, his tongue poised under his teeth in a word halted before being given breath. He said nothing, but withdrew his hand.

"No make up," Erwin said after a pause. He realized what must have been carefully hidden the last time they were together. "Be ready to take me. I'm afraid I can't stay long today."

"Alright," Hyacinth said. He never broke gaze with Erwin, but his eyes filled with tears. Erwin left before he could see them fall.

Tears were nowhere to be seen when Erwin returned to Hyacinth's room. Hyacinth lounged on the bed, feet kicked up, immodest and comfortable as a cat. Erwin even caught him mid-yawn, though the boy slipped into a more fetching pose when he realized he wasn't alone.

"There you are," Hyacinth said with a smile.

"Here I am," Erwin said. He settled down next to Hyacinth to kiss him.

The scar was not Erwin's business. He decided that after making his arrangements with the madam. Many soldiers in the Scouting Legion used their scars as a road map of stories, jumping from brag to brag like children on rocks across a stream. But Erwin had enough scars of his own to understand the worst wounds were not stories volunteered.

It wasn't his place to worry or wonder about Hyacinth, any more than it was Hyacinth's to worry or wonder about him.

They were two men with an arrangement. Right now that arrangement involved wet tongues and his strong hands gripping small shoulders. Hyacinth kissed him with fierce abandon, swallowing any possibility for conversation between them. Erwin matched his hunger then quickly surpassed it. While Hyacinth's fingers remained in his hair he touched the body he demanded to see naked. Hyacinth was slender, still growing. His nipples were adorably small and pink against the larger pads of Erwin's thumbs. Hyacinth whimpered and pushed into the touch. Erwin growled. Pulled the boy closer.

Hyacinth really was so small in his arms, so like a doll. Erwin's fingertips grazed scar tissue on his back. Whip lashes, most likely, but were they punishments or clients games? Was there that much of a difference?

Not his business. Hyacinth did not tear up or flinch in any way. He seemed to breathe out sex as he slid his hand over the outline of Erwin's dick through his trousers. He smiled at Erwin, urging the larger man to roll onto his back.

"I remember this. You're big. I want to lick it again."

"Right," Erwin muttered. He tried not to roll his eyes. He knew better than to flaunt such things, not to place too much stock in compliments. Even of this or that lover called him big, it could be a complaint as much as a compliment. Those sort of words were meant to pad his ego, coming from the mouth of a prostitute. Still, he didn't interrupt. Erwin hadn't visited Hyacinth for honesty.

He certainly _felt_ big when Hyacinth unzipped him and pulled out his cock with a look of enthusiastic anticipation unmatched by a child on his birthday. The boy truly looked cock hungry, his eyes half lidded as he worked Erwin into full hardness. Hyacinth clearly took joy in being methodical, spit-slicking his hands to work Erwin up and down as he toyed with Erwin's foreskin and sensitive tip with the point of his tongue. Now and then he'd disappear between Erwin's legs to lick his balls. A simple but underrated pleasure in life, having one's balls licked and sucked by someone who looked so innocent.

It seemed like only moments until Erwin was fully hard. His sex was great and ruddy against the sweet, softness of Hyacinth's pink cheeks and lips. When Hyacinth opened his mouth and welcomed Erwin in, it was a heat and pleasure like the home Erwin never knew.

He was deep down in the boy's throat when he was overwhelmed by a lust like fire. It was a perfect moment: the look on his face as Erwin slid down his throat, like there was nothing he could want more. Erwin pulled Hyacinth off him by the hair, only barely showing restraint. Hyacinth staggered back.

"Was that not to your liking?" Hyacinth asked, admirably calm. "Did I--"

"--I need to fuck you. Now."

"Right. Of course." Hyacinth looked slightly stunned by Erwin's seriousness.

"On your hands and knees."

Hyacinth obeyed.

"How are you for lubrication?"

"You told me to be ready to take you." Erwin found Hyacinth to be quite slick, stretched too, easily accepting of Erwin's exploration. Hyacinth bared down on the strength of his fingers, wiggling his hips until Erwin's fingers touched that place of want.

Hyacinth let out a whine as he speared himself, as if Erwin denied him something he wanted by only giving him his fingers. Erwin worked lubricant over himself, though lost focus in watching Hyacinth fuck himself like _Erwin_ was the sex object.

"You want my cock, don't you?" Erwin realized. In this words he felt a feral power, one he only indulged in once before - the last time he spent with Hyacinth.

He lined himself up between Hyacinth's soft cheeks, rubbing himself off between them. _This_ was already heaven, soft, Hyacinth quivering beneath him. He could see a few faint notches of the boy's spine, and a flurry of barely-visible marks over his back and shoulders. But the body beneath him did not cower. The body beneath was poised to take him, and Erwin wanted to fuck him until he screamed.

"Yes," Hyacinth murmured. He sounded sincere, though not proud to say it.

"I'm going to," Erwin said in even, measured tones. "I don't know and I don't care who else, _what_ else you've taken, but you're going to remember being fucked by me."

"Yes," Hyacinth muttered. This was a word from deep in his gut, equal parts need and shame. "Do it. Hurry."

"I will," Erwin said, kissing the dove-perfect nape of Hyacinth's neck. "But not today."

Erwin saw a blush keep up Hyacinth's neck from around the place he kissed.

"You're not joking, are you?" Hyacinth asked, disappointed.

"No," said Erwin. Instead he withdrew and clumsily shucked his pants. He was a little glad Hyacinth hadn't moved from the bed to notice him fumble. Erwin found lubricant in a stoppered bottle on the nightstand. A considerate touch. He poured more of the oil over his dick and then spread nearly the rest of the bottle's contents between Hyacinth's splayed thighs. He took his time enjoying the sensation of the softness between Hyacinth's perfect, hairless thighs. He squeezed one thigh and Hyacinth got the hint, closing his legs around Erwin's sex. He worked himself up and down on Erwin's cock like it was a pole, so large in scale compared to him. Their sexes slided against each other, Erwin nudging Hyacinth's balls and the base of his cock with each movement. Sometimes they'd mingle, length against length, and sometimes the mess of lubrication and heat and sweat led to more chaotic bumping and sliding. Hyacinth wasn't fully hard at first, but he soon responded to the heat of Erwin's flesh by making heat of his own.

Hyacinth panted from the exertion, working himself on Erwin's dick as Erwin thrust between his legs. Sweat began to puddle at his lower back. Erwin couldn't quite bend to lick it, so he licked over Hyacinth's neck and shoulder.

"I thought you were planning to take me," Hyacinth panted.

"I am taking you."

"You're playing semantics. Why don't you want to fuck me?"

"I do very much want to fuck you," Erwin grunted.

"And yet this is what you do instead."

"Because I want that to be something you want so much you're willing to earn it." Erwin wished he could see Hyacinth's face.

Hyacinth went quiet. He reached for the pillows further up the bed and propped himself up on them, elbows and arms. "You think I don't want it?" he finally asked.

"You were ready to cry before."

"I thought you were going to be rude." When Erwin didn't say any more, he added, "What do I do to earn it, as you put it?"

"Be patient."

Erwin comprised his life with quick, brutal moves and long, protracted periods of planning. Conserving movement and making sure action was meaningful was his strong point, even if he met criticism for wasting resources. As if he didn't know the bulk of his 'supplies' were human lives. He wanted that pleasure with Hyacinth, but he feared just how good it might be. Whatever this was, this spark, it was a bright thing in his life. One of the very few.

Kill a spark too quickly and the darkness afterward seems all the blacker. Whatever it this was, he did not want to end things prematurely. He did not know if his heart could take it.

"I have plenty of time," Hyacinth pointed out, "You're the one in a rush. Reports to file. Meetings to attend."

"Right," Erwin said. He kissed Hyacinth's ear.

"That tickles," Hyacinth laughed. There it was again, that illusion of closeness, as if they cared for each other. There was no reason to. Erwin pulled out, rolling onto his back.

"Give me your mouth again." Hyacinth crawled over. Erwin stopped him by grasping his shoulder. "When you do, I want to think about how that's going to feel inside you, stretching you out. I want you to touch yourself."

Hyacinth nodded again, and opened his mouth.

Erwin thought about how it looked, disappearing between his legs before. He thought about the wet, sucking perfection Hyacinth engulfed him in, the ease of which he gulped him down without gagging. He meant to take it slowly, but his hips hitched.

Here he was again, fucking this sweet boy's mouth, his sweet throat. His fingers grasped his hair tightly.

And Erwin knew there was plenty wrong with using a boy like this, someone so much smaller. When the thought crossed his mind the need only became more violent. The pace grew quick and uneven, and Hyacinth choked a little. Erwin immediately let go. Hyacinth coughed and sputtered, wiping at the shine on his lips and chin with the heel of his palm.

"You're not done yet," the boy rasped, out of breath.

"Straddle me."

Hyacinth obliged him, straddling his dick. Erwin liked the slight of them pressed together, both hard. Small and large, just like their bodies, nestled.

"Tell me about how you want me."

"I want you inside me, filling me," Hyacinth said, with a note of question in his voice.

Erwin pushed into Hyacinth's still-slick hole with three fingers, hooking them.

Hyacinth hissed something out that was probably a curse. Sweat formed on his brow as he began to move against those fingers, thighs shaking. He grimaced from the effort, but seemed to get what he want.

"Oh, there," he gasped out. "Right there. When you fuck me you won't just touch, just press, I'll feel it every time."

"That's right," Erwin murmured. "Just tell me all of it."

"I know you," Hyacinth shuddered, "We're not supposed to use names but I do. And I know I'm the only one you've come to twice. And I only. I only want you to come to me. I'd consider it an honor to serve you, if it helped you in any way. If I can't be out there myself then at least I can help you work through your - hh- frustrations..."

If even a little more blood could have traveled to Erwin's brain, he probably would have been surprised. As it was, he thought his balls might burst.

"You're a nice boy for a hooker."

Hyacinth bit his lip. "I'm really not."

Erwin brought him closer, held him almost tenderly. "You are, though. You're a very good boy."

Hyacinth might disagree verbally, but he very much responded, pushing himself against Erwin's fingers, trying to gain more purchase, hopelessly aroused.

"Good boy," Erwin rumbled, and Hyacinth truly didn't seem to be able to help himself, hips snapping.

"Please," he gasped out, "If you don't stop saying that, I'll--"

"You know my name, don't you?"

"Smith."

"My _name_."

"Erwin..."

"Tell me you're a good boy."

"I'm a good boy, Erwin," Hyacinth whimpered, his eyes brimming again.

"Now tell me your name."

"Armin," said the boy, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

"You're a very good boy, Armin."

Armin sobbed, bouncing on Erwin's fingers and rolling against his huge cock.

"Come for me like a good boy, Armin," Erwin said.

Armin came _hard_. He wailed into Erwin's shoulder and painted their stomachs white.

Erwin's orgasm was secondary to that magnificent display, quiet in comparison. They lay there, catching their breath as the hot and sticky between them began to cool. Armin was still crying silently. Erwin wiped his tears away with his thumb.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you anywhere?"

Armin sniffed. "I told you before, you couldn't hurt me if you tried."

Erwin doubted that was true, but didn't want to say anything that might imply he'd ever _want_ to hurt Armin. He stroked Armin's back.

"It hasn't been easy on you here," Erwin said.

"That's not for you to worry about," Armin said, a sudden chill in his voice.

That's what Erwin kept telling himself. That's what Levi told him. This was the opposite of what Erwin had intended, coming here. He only wanted a chance to blow off steam, to vent his frustrations, as Armin said. He could not afford anything straying his gaze. Whatever this spark was, it was better subdued now before it truly became some sort of problem or addiction.

"I'm coming back soon," Erwin said.

Armin nodded wearily, wiping his eyes with the corner of a pillow. He smiled, no longer crying.

"It's customary for frequent clients to bring along gifts," he said. He stretched out on the bed, drawing little shapes in the sticky spend on his stomach absently. "You know, to make sure they remain in the whore's favor."

Somehow, it made Erwin deeply uncomfortable to hear Armin refer to himself that way. "You shouldn't call yourself--"

"I am what I am, just like anyone else you paid to visit here," Armin said firmly. "Bring me newspapers. They don't even have to be very new, I just want... I want to know what's going on outside the walls of this place."

"Of course," said Erwin as he hunted down his pants. He had to turn one leg right-side-in. "Is that really all you want? No flowers, special foods, clothes?"

"Books," Armin said, "Anything that's been published in the last six or seven years."

"Books and newspapers," Erwin said. If he tucked his shirt into his trousers, it almost hid the bit of spattered spend that ended up on the shirt. "Right." He wondered when the change happened, when it was that Armin started giving _him_ instructions.

"I suppose you should bring me something else, too, like a trinket or honey cake," Armin said. "For appearance's sake. You can't let the madam know you're bringing me anything to read. She'll make off with it."

"Understood," Erwin said. He bent over to kiss Armin on the brow, smoothing fingers through his hair.

"Kiss me again, like you mean it," Armin breathed.

Erwin did. He tasted himself on Armin's tongue. The kiss ended too quickly.

"Don't die out there," Armin said as Erwin opened the door.

"I won't," Erwin said. He never promised such a ridiculous thing to anyone before, yet he said it with a small smile.

The war hadn't changed. There was no more reason to hope than there had been the first time Erwin visited the Garden. Yet he made his way with a spring in his step, like he was half his age and his cares were feather-light.


	4. Chapter 4

Not two days after Erwin's last visit to the Garden, Levi invited himself over for a night of chess, name calling, and too much vine. The game moved slowly, or at least it did forty-five minutes ago. At this point it would be fair to say it had come to a stop, but neither of them were ready to admit it. They were deep in their cups and deep in conversation. The chess board acted as a final barrier between them, making it easier to share their thoughts than being face-to-face. It was warm enough that they only played by lamplight, no fire in hearth.

Levi spent the first half of the evening complaining about his elite squad, then praising them, then complaining that they were so worthy of praise. Then he started in on Erwin. How he seemed less constipated and pissy lately, was he getting his rocks off, had he caught the clap yet?

Normally, Erwin was able to share the details of his sexual life with Levi in the same frank manner the Scouting Legion discussed their bowel movements. That night, he found himself unable to come up with the right words when he spoke about Armin. He stalled with various indifferent thinking noises and finally said, "There's a boy I've seen twice."

"Smaller than me?"

"Around the same size, maybe slightly taller. Less muscular."

"I fucking knew it."

"Don't flatter yourself by thinking I recruited you for your looks, Levi."

Levi was drunk enough to try lapping the last drops of vine from his glass with his tongue. Erwin shook his head. "You're an animal."

"Said the boy-fucker."

Erwin went quiet, staring into his glass.

"Don't sulk. I hooked you up with that place as a fucking favor. If I really thought you were a degenerate I would've strung you out and taken your job by now."

"The joke would've been on you if you took my job."

Levi shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Erwin remained quiet for a minute or so. He finally said, "Do prostitutes often commit suicide?" Erwin didn't want Armin on the top of the list of people who were dead because of him, either by his action or inaction.

"More often they fall to the vine, or they catch a filthy disease and die from it. Or some sick fuck strangles them and throws them in the river and the Military Police knock on some doors but no one ever gets arrested. Or they have a kid and that kills 'em, though I guess you're not at much risk of that."

"He cut himself, on his wrist."

"Well, shit," Levi said that ever-so-expressive monotone of his, "I'd slit my wrists if I had to suck your dick, too."

"It was an old wound," Erwin quickly clarified, choosing to ignore Levi's blunt comment. "Scar tissue, probably over a year old." He was plenty familiar with the structure of scars.

"You're fucking this up for yourself, aren't you?" Levi sighed, rubbing his temples with his forefinger and thumb. "You're worried about the brat. Since when did Erwin Smith give a shit about other people's lives?"

Erwin did not reply. He rested his chin on his hand and studied the board. The pieces seemed to breathe in the flickering lamplight. He couldn't remember whose move it was. He was pretty drunk, too.

"He's what, eleven?"

Erwin grimaced. "Fourteen or fifteen."

"Plenty of recruits die at that age. You're fine with that."

"You know," Erwin said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low growl, "That's not the case."

"You accept it, though. It's necessary."

"I know where you're going with this," Erwin said very, very slowly. "He's a civilian. It's different."

"Is it?" asked Levi. "He's a part of this war. Everyone is, whether they know it or not. He just happens to play a more direct part. His cock sucking is gonna help us win the war by keeping you nice and happy."

"Not if he dies in that place." Erwin hated not knowing what he should do. When it came to the war, none of the decisions were easy, but the intended outcome was clear. Erwin did not want Armin to die, but he could not afford to get entangled in a scandal with some brothel. Would Armin even thank him if he did? He assumed that Armin hurt himself because he wanted to get away, but what he chose to do to his body was none of Erwin's affair. For all Erwin knew, Armin inflicted the scar before he ever started working at the Garden.

Really, it wasn't fair of him at all to assume Armin wanted to die simply because he was a prostitute. As Levi pointed out, some were in the trade by choice. Some considered it the best of many options.

Then again, the scars on Armin's back suggested he had been beaten thoroughly. More than once. He also walked with a limp he worked hard to cover.

"You're worrying way too much about a person you're paying to stick your dick into." Levi rudely interrupted his thoughts.

"You keep throwing it in my face that I'm a hypocrite," Erwin said, "But if it's my duty to fight for and protect mankind, isn't he part of that?"

Levi said, "If that's the case, you could always ask the kid to marry you. You'll have to pay a shitton bullshit dowry, especially if he was a top earner, but if that's the way you want to go..." Levi sank down into his chair. "Some folks in the neighborhood owe me favors. It can happen."

"I meant it when I told you I never wanted you sinking to that place again," Erwin said.

"Yet here you are, pining over your child bride-to-be like he's some fucking lost prince in a fairy tale, locked away in a tower. You're worrying about him and you haven't even had true love's kiss or whatever."

When Levi said it, the whole thing sounded so tawdry and ridiculous. And it was, wasn't it? Erwin would do well never to go back to the Garden.

"It wouldn't look good for me to marry a prostitute. But the boy seemed rather intelligent, he'd make a good assistant."

"And hiring a non-military rent-boy to assist you would look better." Levi didn't need to swear. He didn't need to emote. He perfectly communicated his disdain through his complete lack of expression.

"I'll figure something out."

"You'd better. Seeing you all worked up is hilarious, but it's gonna stumble right into pathetic and sad if you keep it up." Levi reached across the board. "Check mate."

"...Is it even your turn?"

"I don't fucking know," Levi said. "But I win."

 

The last days of summer tumbled into autumn before Erwin could make time to visit the Garden again. The days he was not leading troops beyond the walls he was begging, scraping, cajoling for funding. Sometimes Erwin felt like a prostitute himself, prostrating to nobles who had no idea what his soldiers faced out there and didn't care. It was frustrating. He thought of Armin often as the colors of the leaves changed, wondering if the autumn light would light up his hair a different shade of gold.

Erwin visited in the driving rain, wearing an old gray cloak and feeling more like a thief in the night than a hero rescuing a prince in a tower. He didn't see Armin waiting in his usual spot by the window. A redhead boy who could be no older than thirteen approached him, asked him if he would like a drink. Somehow he managed to the offer of a drink into something suggestive, and Erwin's stomach flipped.

"I'm looking for a boy, Hyacinth," Erwin said, allowing the red-haired lad to lead him to a seat and pour him a glass of vine. The boy tried to drape across his lap, but Erwin crossed his legs quickly and the boy draped on the arm of his chair instead. "Does he still work here?"

"Hyacinth," the boy repeated lazily, "Blond hair, blue eyes? Always acts like he's so much better and smarter than everyone?"

"He has blond hair and blue eyes," Erwin said, "He seemed quite nice to me."

"He's here, but he ain't taking customers."

Erwin thought the whole world might have stopped. Was he too late? Had Armin done something drastic?

"Is he sick or hurt?"

"Sleeping off a wild party."

Erwin recognized the boy's toothy grin. It was the smile of someone reveling in someone else's pain. Anger filled him, sharp and illogical. Erwin took a breath. Armin didn't need him to defend against the pettiness of his contemporaries.

"Can you please ask the madam if I can see him? I brought him some gifts, as an apology for not coming to visit sooner."

The redhead shrugged and flounced off to get the madam. The madam was a matron, her hair as gray as the autumn sky pouring rain. She would have seemed motherly in any other context, but her warm words always struck Erwin as being insincere. Their deals were always vaguely worded, but Erwin did not believe for a moment she didn't recognize him from before. Something about him worried her today. "That boy is not actually one of our workers, he's just the son of one of the other workers lending a hand."

Erwin recalled that Armin recognized him. The madam was probably just trying to avoid getting into hot water with the law if she had any idea who he was, as if he'd have the nerve to admit he came to the Garden and witnessed such a young boy offering himself.

(Not offering himself, not really: being offered.)

"I've talked to him before, I only wish to talk to him again."

"I'm very happy that you wish to see Hyacinth. I'm afraid he's a bit under the weather today - nothing too serious, just a cold. We've already had our physician check him out. I'll ask him if he's up to visitors."

"Wait. Tell him..." Erwin wracked his mind for a way to identify himself so that Armin would know it was him. He couldn't risk admitting his own identity, nor did he know if many people knew Armin's real name. "Tell him I brought him presents because he's been a very good boy."

Creepy, Erwin thought, but anything else might be too close to identifying himself and his career.

Fortunately, the code worked. The madam asked to see the present, insisting it was best she kept track of valuables in the brothel, lest petty jealousies get the better of the workers and items go missing. She was disappointed by the gift of two honey rolls and a burnished bronze bracelet, and stared down her severely straight nose at them. "You may find that doesn't impress him, but he has told you to go ahead. We have brought him down to a visiting room to meet with you. But be warned, if he's not in the mood to be of service... We will take it quite seriously if you upset him, charge you whatever we like in damages, and have you banned from the brothel."

Erwin didn't know whether to be relieved the brothel was willing to defend its workers somewhat, or horrified such a policy needed to be in place. He didn't have much time to think of it. When he opened the door, his thoughts were filled with Armin instead.

Armin looked ill. Watery eyes, red nose, and sniffling. But Erwin thought he also saw the trace of bruises on his neck before the collar of his nightshirt started. Was that really none of his affair?

"Erwin!" Armin whispered hoarsely. Erwin sat next to him on the bed. Armin threw his arms around him, and the whole scene felt domestic in a twisted sort of way. Erwin could be like the soldiers in his army, for once, coming home to visit a sick little brother, or something like that. Instead, the reality was that he was bringing contraband reading material to a young, teenage prostitute. "Don't kiss me, I'm sick," Armin said.

Erwin kissed his forehead, his cheek. Armin smelled of sweat and herbal medicine, with that summer-sweet scent he remembered so well beneath. "The madam said it wasn't serious. Is that true?"

"It's probably a cold rather than consumption," Armin said, "I've been resting all day and I think I'll be up to working tomorrow. Will you be able to visit then?"

"Probably not." Erwin stroked Armin's hair. His fingers felt big and clumsy in those fine strands.

Armin leaned into the touch like a cat being petted. "Is it true you brought me presents?"

Armin clapped in rehearsed delight over the bracelet, and immediately put it on. The honey cakes he frowned at in their white bag. "They smell delicious, but I'm really not hungry. Put it on the table and I'll give them to the other kids later."

Armin hugged Erwin's arm, briefly and sincerely. "It was very kind of you to think of me after so long."

Erwin could not admit that he thought of Armin frequently after they met, during every rare moments he was both alone and not preoccupied with the war.

"Those were the decoys, like you requested." Erwin's civilian clothes were simple but tasteful: a button-down shirt, brown as oak, black wool trousers and boots. He kept things ironed and pressed in such a manner that perhaps it was no surprise he was read as military by the brothel workers. He made note to work harder at hiding his nature. He unbuttoned his shirt, which made Armin raise an eyebrow, until he showed what he carried in beneath: Several newspapers, rolled up in tubes and tucked with a book, all wrapped against him in gauze so it resembled a sort of middle-aged paunch and made no noise. "This is my real present."

Armin brightened like a cloud break in a deluge, blinding and gold. He looked precisely his young age as he gathered up the newspapers and book in his arms, hugging them to his chest with grateful tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Erwin," he whispered. "This is better than what I could have dreamed."

Erwin tried to remember what he dreamed of when he was fifteen. Seeing the outside world, perhaps, or defeating the titans. Or had there been more romantic pursuits at the time? It seemed so long ago. He was certain nothing so common as a shabby book and some printed words would ever be something worth dreaming of.

"May I?" Armin asked, gingerly unrolling one of the newspapers.

"By all means," Erwin said. "I only wished to see you, I'm not going to make demands of your body in such a state."

Completely absorbed in his reading, Armin did not reply. Erwin noticed the article that so held his attention was one about him. His most recent failure, according to the presses. Erwin did not interrupt him until he found Armin poring over the list of those missing in action.

"Looking for someone? If you have a name, I could find them on my roster."

"No," Armin said easily, putting the paper down. "...Don't you think those journalists are a bit hard on you? Not just anyone could do the work you do. Everyone knows now, the Scouting Legion is heroic. They kill tons of titans! I hear people talking about it all the time." 

"I give them a bare-bones description of the operations, and a list of those missing," Erwin said, "If they come to the conclusion I'm incompetent, I understand why. Besides, there will come a day when they sing our praises and claim they always supported us in their hearts. That's how these things go." Erwin did not add that he probably wouldn't be around to see this praise.

"Why don't you tell them more about what you do, then? Wouldn't everyone feel better if they knew what you were doing out there?"

"It might make some people more confused and frightened, thus it's classified."

"But if people knew the truth they might also be more supportive, and more people would join the legion." Armin looked thoughtful. "I can't see why it should all be top secret, unless you think there's some risk..." Armin broke off mid sentence, staring at Erwin wide-eyed. "That's it, isn't it? You think there could be a security risk. That the titans could get information from behind the walls."

Erwin maintained silence.

"When I think about it, it makes sense. After all, the colossal titan and armored titan appeared where the gates were. Of course, Shiganshina... It existed to draw titan attention, yet it was also a weak spot. The only way they could know that is if they were intelligent enough to understand the design. Maybe someone's been sending them information... but that doesn't seem possible."

"All that we truly know about the titans is how little we know," Erwin said grimly. 

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

Erwin continued to say nothing.

"I am."

"You're really very smart," Erwin said. "Why is a mind like yours being wasted in a brothel?"

"The time I spend with you is wasting my mind?" Armin's sharp voice didn't match his smile.

"They don't even let you read," Erwin said, "Why? This place must be driving you mad."

"I find things to do," Armin said lightly, "Or, you know, _people_."

Erwin's shame grew so enormous he thought his lungs might collapse beneath the weight. Of all the ruthless, unfair, disgusting things he ever did, this is the single sin that stared him back in the face. He could not avoid its gaze by keeping his own eyes ever-forward.

And yet he would look it right in the eye without a care for it. Had to.

However wrong it was of him, he wanted to kiss Armin's breath away, even while his nose was red and running. He wanted to feel Armin's snug, taut heat, hear the sounds he made when he was rightly and thoroughly fucked. He wanted to be lost for awhile in the flame of lust that engulfed them while they were together. He wanted Armin's thoughts to be of nothing but him, if only because he seemed so happy when they were.

Because none of this mattered. Someday, probably soon, Erwin would be dead. He would either be cold in the ground, or more likely in a titan's belly. All that would be left were his accomplishments, if any them were worth remembering. The right and wrong faded away too quickly. All that stood would be a legacy, either success or failure. Not in the eyes of the newspaper, or any whore's personal opinion, but humanity as a whole.

"Please don't look at me like that," Armin said, stroking Erwin's cheek, urging his face toward his. He kissed Erwin's brow, his cheekbone. "I don't need your pity. I earn my keep in this place and live comfortably. I'm not depending on someone else's kindness here, and I'm even helping the cause by helping you. Considering the rate of unemployment among the non-enlisted refugees, I'm doing well."

"So you're a refugee from Wall Maria," Erwin said.

Armin undid the first of Erwin's buttons. "May I undress you?"

"I told you I didn't come here for that," Erwin said.

"Of course you did. You didn't know I was sick. And how un-patriotic would it be for me to turn you away, turn _this_ away?" Armin groped Erwin through his pants, his smile and touch knowing. "I can't let you fuck my mouth and I'm not in the mood to let you have my body, but I'm sure we can come to a compromise. I haven't seen you naked yet. I don't think that's fair. Lay back and let me see you."

Erwin gave in. Armin obviously didn't want to talk more, so he let the boy undress him. Luxuriated in the feeling of those small hands tracing over his muscles. He couldn't ignore the look of awe Armin gave him, more than sexual fascination, it was clear he admired Erwin. This was part of his role that made Erwin entirely uncomfortable: he was not someone to be admired. Not as Armin's pink tongue lapped over hips nipples, or his thumbs rubbed over his hipbones. Erwin allowed Armin complete control, hardly touching him except to push his hair out of his face, or offer his handkerchief when he sneezed.

("Here," Erwin said.

"I'll wash it and give it back," Armin said.

"It's fine," Erwin said. "Just keep it."

"No," Armin said, "You have to come back for it.")

He was not someone to be admired for doing these things.

Armin studied Erwin's body with his tongue and fingertips. New color flooded his cheeks as he rubbed undid Erwin's belts, got his underwear off with his trousers. He didn't go for Erwin's cock immediately. He smoothed his fingers over the line of his hips, and backwards, groping his buttocks.

"You have a really nice ass," Armin snickered after several silent moments of touching and squeezing. He particularly liked the little dimpled bit, rubbing small circles there. "I mean really, really wonderful. I suppose this is _not_ an ass that just sits in a chair and does paperwork all day." He laughed so hard he made himself cough, putting Erwin's handkerchief up to his face.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval." Erwin replied with surprising sincerity.

"You're really handsome, and you have a nice ass, and a really nice dick." Armin wrapped his fingers around Erwin's thick, half-hard length. His length responded with natural enthusiasm toward the attention. Armin leaned over to lick the tip, then paused, mouth open. He looked up at Erwin, strangely serious."You won't let anyone else in this brothel have this nice ass and dick, will you?"

Erwin began to respond, "I w--"

Armin interrupted, "If I find out you've been with anyone but me, I will become concerned. It may place unnecessary strain on our current arrangement."

Erwin completely believed the threat. Armin lathed his length tip to root with his tongue, cupping and toying with his balls all the while. This treatment lacked the intensity of their brutal face-fuck sessions, but Erwin found instead of feeling that urgency he was content. Armin's attentions made him feel pampered, looked after. And while he ought to know better than to believe him, he liked hearing how much Armin wanted him. Armin went about his task serenely, his gaze admiring as ever.

Eventually Armin sat back on his heels to rest his jaw and blow his nose. Erwin touched his hip. How strange it was to see the boy still clothed, though it was only a night shirt that stopped past the knee. Armin swam in the soft fabric, but sometimes Erwin thought he saw fingerprint bruises on his neck, wrists and legs, though they might have been idle shadows.

He tried not to think of it. His own body had its share of bruises from fighting and hours on horseback.

"Will you touch yourself for me?" Armin said. "I'll help you."

He put the newspapers on the bedside table and handed Erwin the scented oil to help the job along before cuddling up next to him on the bed. He watched Erwin handle himself, much more slowly than he did on his own. Armin laid his hand over Erwin's - so small in comparison to his, but Erwin let Armin guide his pace. Armin leaned over and lapped at his nipple as their hands moved over him together. Each time Armin quickened the pace he would back off just as Erwin began gasping, in the guise of applying more lubricant. It was an unnamed game of endurance, one Erwin knew Armin would win by default. Just when Erwin thought his balls might explode from the pressure Armin sank back down between his legs. He rubbed Erwin's sticky cock head over his lips and tongue, displaying that vivid, gut-wrenching pink. Armin jerked him off with every intent to empty Erwin into his mouth. Erwin obliged. White escaped from Armin's lips down his chin. Armin used the handkerchief to wipe him away.

"I guess I'll wait till next time to try out your ass," Armin said, holding up two fingers.

Erwin cleared his throat abruptly.

"You look tired," Armin quickly changed the subject.

Tired wasn't quite the word. Erwin felt relaxed, warm, like he could sink into the feather mattress.

"Close your eyes," Armin murmured soothingly, "It's alright."

"Just for a few minutes," Erwin insisted, and drifted off.

 

All soldiers had nightmares. Erwin was no different. Most dreamed of grasping hands and gnashing teeth. In this, Erwin was different. If he dreamed of titans, no matter how innumerable and unpredictable, he still knew how to defeat them.

_Erwin dreamed of crossing the river of dead. On the far shore, a motley, milky-eyed army stood waiting. Those withs arms enough to salute did so. He could smell the spoiled, gag-inducing stench of body parts left in the back of carts to balloon and grow maggots. They were waiting for him to command their ranks._

_He knew he could turn the boat around. There was still time. He knew Levi waited on the shore he just left, as did Armin now, too. But he could not bring himself to look behind him. He pushed the boat forward through the ghastly apparitions in the water, until his boat crunched on the ash of the far shore._

_One soldier stepped out, broken-necked, half-eaten. "You're not welcome here," she said, "This is a place for those who died with honor."_

_"I'm sorry," Erwin whispered._

_The soldier said, "You're really not, are you?"_

A touch to his shoulder pulled Erwin from sleep. He sat up suddenly, and for a moment all he saw was blood. It took him several moments to come out of the post-sleep haze enough to quell his panic.

The brothel. Armin woke him up. He looked on apologetically. "You were having a bad dream."

The newspapers were spread over much of the bed. Erwin recognized the sickly sweet smell of make up, and realize the splatters of blood he thought he saw before were from Armin. He spent the time Erwin slept drawing on the papers with whatever he had on hand: in this case, red paint for his lips and cheeks, kept near the lubricant just in case.

Erwin began to dress slowly. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours."

"Damn."

"You needed rest," said Armin, carefully putting the papers back together and rolling them up one by one. He hid each in the bed frame. "Does it matter where you got it?"

"That depends on who sees me leaving," Erwin said. Before he finished buttoning his shirt, he picked up one of Armin's sketches.

They were charts. He recognized his own strategy there, though somewhat crudely reproduced.

"Armin, this is brilliant. You were able to come up with this from what little was said in the articles?"

"I extrapolated a bit on some of the numbers, but yes?" Armin said, as if he didn't understand that was odd. And amazing. "I was just trying to see if I could get a better picture of what happened in my head." He explained, ducking his head sheepishly.

"You don't belong here," Erwin said. "I'll take you away from here. You could live with me. I can't promise you a life of luxury, but your mind could be of real use to the Scouting Legion."

"My body is already of real use here," Armin said, brow furrowing.

"You wouldn't have to debase yourself. You could aid this war."

"Debase myself? You mean like sleeping with you, which you've paid me to do? How dare you say I'm debasing myself! Aren't you the one dragging the king's army through the mud by patronizing a whorehouse?"

Erwin gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly. "Just the same, you could aid this war. We are in desperate needs of minds like yours, minds that seek out and utilize the truth. No one need ever touch you again. Even me, if that's what you want."

Armin pressed his lips together so hard they turned white. "Just how do you propose to get me away from here?" He asked without the slightest touch of warmth. He crossed his arms. "I'm one of the brothel's top earners. They're not just going to let me walk out on your arm."

Erwin fastened his last button. "I could - we could get married. I have connections. It can happen."

"First you say you won't touch me, and now you want to get married? Which is it?"

"What I'm suggesting would be a marriage in name only, as a means of properly removing you from this place." Erwin undid his last button to breathe better. "But... it wouldn't _have_ to be in name only. If you wanted to..."

"So you're seriously proposing to me." Armin said with thick skepticism.

"...I suppose that I am."

Armin blinked rapidly. "Then please propose properly."

Erwin wondered when exactly he lost complete control of his life. He got down on one knee in front of the bed. Armin scooted to the edge. He covered Armin's hands with his.

"Armin," Erwin said slowly, "Please marry me. Let me take you away from here."

Armin did not speak. Tears flooded his eyes, then cascaded down his cheeks. His nose began to run profusely. Armin freed his hands to blow his nose on Erwin's handkerchief, then daubed at his eyes with his sleeve. "I wanted to hear someone say that just once," he said.

"Armin..."

"I can't go with you."

"You're miserable here."

"I can't," Armin sobbed, scrambling backward onto the bed, covering his face. "I just can't."

"I'm giving you a chance to leave these walls," Erwin said, completely calm.

Armin shook his head. His shoulders shook with the strength of his sobs.

"At least tell me why."

"It's not your place to worry about the likes of me," Armin said. "I'm not going to burden you with my struggles."

"Armin, this place is killing you."

"And the titans could kill you. Life is uncertain!"

"You could be so much more than this." Erwin could be the calm in the center of Armin's storm, used to standing his ground in chaos.

Armin looked up, his eyes still overflowing. "If you think I'm so wretched like this, then just leave me alone. It's none of your concern."

"Armin--"

"Leave me."

"Armin..." Erwin stood. He hated not knowing what to do. He reached out for Armin but came up far too short. He touched nothing.

"Leave me! Get out! GET OUT!" Armin's voice cracked with hysteria.

Erwin left before any more drama could play out. Sometimes a tactical retreat was the only way to survive. He all but ran for the door, snatching his cloak off the hook and wrapping it around himself tightly. The rain came down hard, cold and ugly. Erwin let that black night swallow him and did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still question having Erwin propose so quickly in this chapter, and might've scrapped it for this draft if I wouldn't have had to rewrite so much to make it work. I thought it was important for Armin to openly reject any notion of a "romantic fairytale ending" between them. To Erwin, Armin is a fix, a means to an end, and possibly something to take away the emptiness he feels, but his infatuation up until this point didn't necessarily take Armin's point of view or desires into account. He thinks he can always swoop in and fix (ie, control) thinks. The point being that Erwin's a pretty messed up individual, which I happily have had further confirmed by the manga since the time of writing.
> 
> Also I really wanted to write Levi saying "Well, shit. I'd slit my wrists if I had to suck your dick too." It's probably my single favorite line in the story thus far. ;;;


	5. Chapter 5

Outside his window Armin saw a cold world, one sharp enough to cut skin. His breath steamed the glass. He touched fingertips to fog. He could almost remember what it felt like to be painfully cold. In his days as a refugee, he could not imagine missing being huddled under makeshift blankets of itchy burlap, teeth chattering. He fantasized about things he now had: a feather bed, hot meals every day, adults who were happy to see him instead of just pinched and gray. Now he wished he could run out, feel goosebumps raising on his arms. The frost would burn his feet in their house slippers, but he wouldn't care. If he broke a window or found the right moment, he could experience the cold for awhile. It would almost be like being alive, until they brought him back to the Garden, where the heat from the fires and the bodies were enough to sear his skin away.

Armin rubbed the scar on his wrist absently.

The world through Armin's window changed with the seasons. The world of the Garden did not. Seasons were interchangeable, just like the well-dressed customers with their well-paying frustration. Not that Armin particularly cared what they paid. The money didn't belong to him, no more than his body did. Being top earner only meant he had a room with a fireplace. Not even his own room, just one of the ones that didn't freeze in the winter. It meant milk baths when he behaved himself, and baths of humiliation when he did not.

Armin forced himself from bed with a small whine of protest, flinching at the chill of the floorboards almost more out of reflex than shock. He moved slowly on cold mornings, stiffer than a man even twice his age had any right to be. The cold hurt his leg and hips, stiffened toes and fingertips. The nightclothes came off in inches of great effort.

Armin stood before the floor-length mirror entirely naked in his daily ritual. Every morning he checked for flaws. New spots, rashes, bruises, bite marks, all of them could be a matter of concern. Pubic lice were such a perennial problem that one of Armin's favorite gifts from a client was a nit comb he kept in a bottle of vodka too caustic to drink. Fortunately, there seemed to be no evidence of little crawlies today. The bruises on his neck and wrists were fading into yellow-green.

Armin wore his favorite green vest. It soothed his terrible mood. He couldn't stop going over Erwin's proposal in his mind. It angered him, actually, to see such a moment of weakness in his favorite client. The way he behaved was laughable. But what truly angered Armin was that he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of it. Instead he fell apart like the remains of firewood, crumbling uselessly into ash.

He could have gotten away.

All these years Armin convinced himself he had no pride left to lose. What a ridiculous time for that pride to rear its head.

Downstairs the other teenagers gossiped about him, like he couldn't catch on if they all shut up and averted their gazes once he arrived. Armin took a few sausages and pieces of bread and cheese from the table and went to sit with the children. They tended to fight among themselves without supervision.

"How is everyone today?" Armin smiled at them. The children were the only people in the brothel he gave a damn about, really, and sometimes he wished he didn't. There weren't many, not as many as the place Armin used to work, but even four or five were too many children to ever live inside a brothel. The oldest of them was eleven. She would probably be going through puberty soon, and work in the parlor where Armin did. The youngest was four. There were younger children in the place Armin tried to forget, but even four was too young for a brothel. "Sleep well? Violet, give that back to Yarrow. Heather, you have porridge all over your face, here... Where's Orchid?"

Armin's heart sank. Rishi, named Orchid by the madam, arrived not long ago. He was powerfully beautiful, with thick black hair and big, black eyes and a swarthy complexion. Knowing what the slavers had been willing to do to get Mikasa, Armin understood immediately what an investment to the brothel the four-year-old represented.

"Madam Rose let a man take him home, I don't think he's coming back," said Heather with tears in her eyes. Armin held a fondness for Heather - she was the same age Mikasa had been when she joined Eren's family. Armin looked at Heather's brown curls and freckles and struggled to remember Mikasa's face. She was a distant memory, almost fiction.

"No, he's probably not," Armin said, stunned. He squeezed Heather's shoulder and told her a bald-faced lie: "It's alright, though. I'm sure that man was just going to adopt him, so he'll have a nice family. It's better he not live here, don't you think?"

Armin ate his food slowly, then spent a few moments tracing out letters in flour on the table for the children to mimic. If one of the teenagers caught him at it and told Madam Rose, he wouldn't be able to sit right for a week. When it came to his frequent punishments, Armin preferred to do something to deserve them rather than wait how he might accidentally raise someone's ire.

Just before the business day was about to begin, Armin ducked into Madam Rose's office. Armin noted the ledgers, she was looking at the budget for the rest of the week.

Armin slammed his hands on the desk. "How could you sell Rishi?" he asked, fiery with accusation. "I thought you said you weren't going to sell him until he was at least seven!"

"Do you mean Orchid, Hyacinth?" Rose's eyeglasses had a dangerous glint.

"How could you sell him?" Armin repeated. "You agreed he would benefit from a gentle introduction into the lifestyle, and be a good attraction for the Garden! You agreed to let me look after him! Are you really so low that you'd prefer the money in the short-term to what he could earn later on?"

"I don't like your tone, Hyacinth." Rose did not need to speak with inflection to be threatening.

Armin barely kept his mouth shut. He swallowed that sadness down hard, buried it in the pit of the stomach with every other cruelty. Sometimes he wondered if that graveyard of hopes would turn into a tumor. Someday morning he might wake with a swollen belly like one of the unfortunate girls, growing bigger and bigger until his hate burst forth, splitting him in two in an explosion of gore and malice.

"You're in a rather feisty mood today, aren't you?"

Armin lowered his head and said nothing, knowing better than to engage.

"That military man of yours took off into the night. Did you do something to offend him? I'll be quite cross with you if you cost us one of our favorite clients."

Armin bit his lip. If Rose caught on that Erwin had it in his head to marry one of her top earners, she might ban him from the premises. "I asked him if he wanted to spank me and he got awkward. I thought he'd go for it."

"Thistle said he heard you shouting at him to leave, so much his client became disturbed," said Rose.

"I'm just playing with him." Armin slipped on another lie like a slinky, familiar garment. "He's the kind of person who doesn't feel like he's accomplished anything unless there's a struggle. So I'm making it as difficult as I can for him before he loses patience, so he'll find me interesting. He'll be back."

"He'd better."

"He will," Armin assured her with completely manufactured certainty.

"Drop this business with Orchid."

"I apologize for bringing it up," Armin said faintly. Orchid would not be coming back, so fighting for his sake was completely pointless. Nauseated, Armin briefly considered vomiting across her desk and ruining the ledger. Rose would make him work a full day no matter what he did, so really, it would just be a waste of the food. He decided against it for now.

"I expect you to be naked and in room number one in ten minutes. That brute from the city guard sent a runner asking to reserve you."

Armin failed to hide his distaste at the news. Fortunately, Rose did not hide her distaste at the thought of that pig in her business either, though her dislike stemmed from the power the pig had over her business, and not for any care over his habits or personality.

Armin once again considered vomiting. Still not worth it. "Do you think he'll bring me a gift?" A gingerly-made joke.

Armin heard the slap and staggered before he felt the sharp sting of its impact.

"Get undressed. No time for a bath. Go."

 

_Dear Mother and Father,_

Armin composed a letter in his head.

_I have grown up strong and capable without you, just as you hoped. I have joined the Scouting Legion in hopes of someday slicing open a titan and finding your corpses. Training is physically taxing, but I have Eren and Mikasa at my side and we often laugh._

_Grandfather is very proud. We visit him often. He has a little book store on a corner in Wall Sina. He is sweet on the fishmonger down the street, and combs his beard out neatly on market day._

_As always, I remain polite, kind and level-headed, always sure to listen to others carefully when they speak, as you have taught me._

"I'm going to make you scream," said the pig.

"Please," Armin said with a vacant smile, "Be my guest."

_Dear Grandfather,_

_I miss you every day. They would never admit it, but Eren and Mikasa do too. We are planning another trip to your book store after graduation, before we venture outside._

_I know you worry. I promise we are staying out of trouble. I will write notes on our journey so that we can write a book about it when I return._

"Don't look at me like that. Like you're better than me. How could something like you possibly be better than me?"

"I- I 'm sorry?"

"You will be."

_Do you remember that first time Eren and I walked home holding hands? You sat me down with warm milk and honey and told me about the grown-up affections, things you said I might need to know if I married one day. When I insisted I'd never want to do those things with Eren or anyone else, you said that was fine because I was so young, but someday I might find a person I wanted to share myself with._

_I've always taken your advice to heart._

"Look at you now, you're just like a dog in heat. Begging to be fucked. By anyone, with anything."

"Please... fuck me."

_I'm saving myself for someone I really care about. A lot of my friends in training are messing around, but fifteen just seems like way too young to be considering that kind of thing._

"Holy shit... are those tears? You're crying aren't you? So good I'm leaving you in tears again, huh?"

"Yes, it's good.... it's so good..."

_To Commander Erwin Smith,_

Armin began his final imaginary letter in pig's rasping catch of breath, in the pause between brutal thrusts.

_I know it is not my place to say so, but I hope to meet you someday._

_I think I could learn a lot from you._

_Forgive my presumption, but I think you could learn a lot from me, too._

Armin couldn't think of what else to say. He broke past the surface of his own benign fantasies and woke up to an ugly, painful reality, face-down in a featherbed. Red-speckled sheets sheets, his hands pinned tied above his head and the pig sneering down at him. The room smelled of sweat, blood and leather, and more prominently of fear.

He hated how that smell always lingered in his nostrils.

Armin could tune out and endure the pain in his body, but the fear was a different thing. All through their games, the pig was rough and careless with him, and the minuscule protection Madam Rose extended toward her product as not enforced. Someday, the pig might go too far.

Wherever Rishi was, he would be even more afraid right now, probably dressed up in fine clothes in someone's basement. As the newest addition to someone's sick collection, likely he'd be better fed and better attended to than most slaves. But Armin doubted very much that luxury included _no_ t being brutally raped.

That word twisted Armin's stomach. He tried not to think it, because it made him angry and helpless and there was nothing he could do to stop _that word_. He shuddered, though for that thought or the feeling over the pig's hand on his throat, pulling him up, he didn't know.

"I'm going to buy you from Madam Rose," the pig whispered in his ear. "I'm going to take you home. I've had an eye on you since we first met. Wanted to make you mine."

The pig squeezed.

"Oh, you tighten up nice when you're afraid."

He let go only when Armin was choking, swimming, dizzy.

"Madam Rose taught you well. I was right to relocate you with her. Wouldn't have wanted to lose track of such a fine little boy."

"All this time, you were looking out for me," Armin murmured, voice dreamy. "From the first time I ran away and asked for your help, you just wanted to keep me somewhere you could be near me when you wanted."

"You got a taste of my cock then."

"I remember." He didn't want to, but he remembered vividly. "But Madam Rose won't let me go. I'm her top earner."

"That's the beauty of it. She petitioned to purchase a noble title, since she came into some money. She'll be giving up the life pretty soon, and pretty little things like you will be back on the market."

The words were more of a shock than the pain of being fucked. Armin bit his lip a long moment to keep from crying out. He could feel it yet not feel it: the hands gripping his hips, the slap of skin against his ass, the ache of his hands tied over his head, keeping him in this awkward position. His ass stung.

"So we'll be together always?"

"As long as you don't bore me." His lips were on Armin's shoulder. Armin wished he were made of glass. He'd shatter into a million pieces and cut him to ribbons.

The sound of Thistle's theatrically pretend moans wafted through the walls. Armin went quiet, thinking.

"Please... I need to see your face. I need to wrap my arms around my new beloved."

Armin could do sickly-sweet. Armin could bat his eyes.

He could have left last night. _He could have left last night!_

The pig undid his bindings. Armin's wrists were rubbed raw by the rope: the pig preferred his toys uncomfortable, bleeding. There was nothing remarkable about the man. He was average in build, his face might even have been considered handsome if he weren't a vile abomination. In stories, the enemy was always clear: titans, criminals, evil sorcerers. In his experience the evil of the world came from ordinary people who cared for themselves more than others.

Armin scrambled to one corner of the bed when he was freed. He snatched a heavy candelabra from the nightstand and swung it at the pig, hitting him in the temple. The pig crumpled like a pile of pathetic old laundry.

Knowing he did not possess the strength to bash his skull in, Armin rolled the unconscious pig over and restrained his hands over his head with the rope on the bed frame. He watched the pig carefully.

(Armin begged him for help once on a rainy day. His feet were bare. He wore nothing but rags, and was close to delirious from enduring sleepless weeks of torment. He was elven. "Sir, you have to stop them, they're stealing children," he said. "They said if I ever ran they'd steal my friends as replacements.")

When the pig started to come around, Armin pushed a pillow over his head and held it there with all of his strength and body weight, watching the man struggle and thrash.

("Please, I just want to go home, I just want to go home, let me go home!"

"Back to Shiganshina? You're welcome to go. But if you want to stay here, you have to earn your keep.")

Armin held the pillow down until the struggling ended. It was almost disappointingly anticlimactic. A dull end for a dull person.

Armin admired the lavish bed, the roaring fire, and the sounds of Thistle still going at it with his client loudly in the next room. The pig lay still. Armin moved the pillow from his head and returned the candelabra to its rightful spot. If he told Madam Rose he passed out while they were playing around, no one would be the wiser. The Military Police would likely want to cover up the fact one of their soldiers died in such a scandalous place, avoiding a full investigation.

"Fuck me harder!" Thistle cried out in the room next to his. "Oh yes!"

Armin laughed, holding his sides, exhausted. He hurt from guts to fingertips. He wanted to sleep. He could probably sleep for a whole year.

The robe waiting for him on the door was fluffy. Armin found the window impossible to open with how his fingers were shaking, but kept trying anyway.

Military boots ascended the stairs with purposeful, almost angry steps. Armin did not recognize the sound. Erwin's strides were heavier.

Had the pig come with a friend? Terrible people tended to travel in packs. Armin's blood froze.

Behind the boots Armin heard Madam Rose's heels. "I told you, he's busy right now - you can speak to him right after -"

"And I told you I'm going to talk to him myself, so tell me what room he's in or I'm kicking down every fucking door down till I find him."

Armin flew from the doorway back to the bed, scrubbing at his eyes with the hells of his palms, praying he could look convincingly tearful and shocked.

"No, no... here. He's in this room."

The key scrabbled in the lock. Armin never heard Madam Rose this fearful of anyone, even the pig. Who could command that kind of respect from the likes of her? The man's method of speech reminded him of Madam Rose's doormen, not a respected member of the king's guard.

As the door flew open, Armin began to cry. The tears of panic were not entirely an act.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he wailed. "He... we were playing around and, and he just... he said his chest hurt and he began convulsing and, and..." 

Armin sobbed into his hands: mostly an act. He felt the glare of the deep-voiced, crude-speaking man boring into the top of his head.

"Tch, gross," said the stranger. Armin peered over the top of his fingers. The man was short, dark-haired, and wore the Wings of Freedom. Did Erwin said him?

"Who are you?" Armin asked weakly.

"I'm Levi, and apparently today I'm your boyfriend's errand boy." Levi looked and spoke like he'd just eaten a huge spoonful of caster oil.

"What have you done, Hyacinth?" Rose asked, voice dangerously low.

"Hey," Levi said to the madam. Armin was not mistaken: Rose feared him. She stood quite still when he spoke to her. "Go get his clothes. I'm taking him out of here."

Armin stared at Levi. He felt single tear dribble down his cheek. He did not wipe it away.

"But Hyacinth is like my child - he's an orphaned runaway from the collapse of Wall Maria! The Military Police placed him in my custody years ago, just like the other children here, I have all the paperwork."

"You're going to stand here in the doorway feeding me some bullshit when I just asked you to get his clothes? Fuck, you're stupid." Levi drew one of his swords. To her credit, Madam Rose disappeared before he had the chance to tip it under her chin. Levi sheathed his sword, and crouched on the floor next to Armin, looking up at him. In spite of the man's scary expression, it was an oddly comforting gesture.

"What are you doing here? I told him to leave me alone." Even though Levi introduced himself, Armin dared not speak Erwin's name within the walls of the Garden.

"Yeah, well, you tell that asshole he can't do something and he just comes on twice as strong. Can you walk okay? What about riding a horse?"

"I've never ridden a horse," Armin said. The room tilted, shifted out of focus. "Look. I told him I won't marry him. He was being ridiculous. Someone like him can't behave so unpredictably!"

Levi snorted. "You don't have to marry him. We've got it all worked out. You can serve as a civilian advisor to the Scouting Legion so long as you keep a low profile."

"And if I don't want to go?"

"Then I'll arrest you as a prostitute. I'm sure your boyfriend can pull some strings so you're not stuck in prison. You'd be back in the refugee labor camps, though. He was pretty fucking clear he wanted you out of here at all costs."

Armin's bones ached, remembering the labor camps. "Where will we go?"

"To an inn, tonight. I'm not having you arrive to HQ like you are now, it'd be a fucking embarrassment. I'll take you there in the morning after you've had a bath. Besides, I don't want you fainting and falling off the horse because you're all tired and hungry and shit."

"I'll go with you. I'll do this thing."

Levi threw a blanket over the pig's dead face.

Madam Rose returned with his clothes and a few of his other belongings, such as his combs and hairbrush, in a satchel, and quickly excused herself. Peeling the robe off his drying, bloody back was the worst of it. When Armin struggled with his buttons, Levi grunted quietly. "Here," he said, quickly doing them up, focusing on the eyelets rather than the sight of Armin's battered body. "We don't have time for this shit." Armin thought that he sounded almost apologetic.

"What about the others?" Armin said suddenly as they lit the stairs. Levi was close but not touching, probably waiting to see if Armin would fall over.

"What about them? My orders were to come get you and only you."

"They--" Armin's words caught in his throat as he realized how stupid he must sound. The Scouting Legion technically had no business coming for him, let alone an entire brothel. Erwin was already abusing his resources terribly just to get him out. Perhaps in the future he could use his freedom to stop this whole terrible system somehow - but he knew Erwin would want him working on the war against the titans.

All he could do was look after his own survival for now. If he argued with Levi, the man might just turn around and arrest him.

Or leave him here.

Armin did not finish his sentence. Levi nodded.

"Why did he send you of all people?" Armin asked as Levi pulled on his green cloak in the doorway, and helped Armin into a long, black coat that smelled of Erwin.

"Fuck if I know."

But as the Garden's two beefy bouncers made way for Levi, all but cowering, Armin think he understood.

Yet Levi helped Armin onto his horse with surprising gentleness. He was Armin's height, maybe even shorter, but quite thickly and solidly built. Hoisting Armin up was no problem, and the hands on his hips seemed mindful of the bruises. "This gonna suck but it won't be long, so I don't want to hear you whining about it," he said.

Armin said nothing, listening to the clank of horseshoes on cobblestone. He could see his breath, but the cold was not painful as he imagined. He barely noticed it over the rest of the excruciating pain in his body. Each bounce in the saddle made him wince, but knowing he might not ever need to feel it again made it bearable. He kept looking at the sky, the winking, chilly stars and the light scrub of slate-colored clouds chasing the moon. He took in the fresh air with great gulps to fill his lungs, so quickly and frequently the cold made him cough.

The ride to the inn took mere minutes. Armin noted with irony that the furnishings and mold-work of the building were not as fine as the Garden's, but he would have volunteered to sleep in a scullery if it meant getting away for good. Levi helped him down from the horse.

"I know you're pretty pissed at Erwin right now and I don't blame you. The guy's a loser with shit timing. But do you wanna see him tonight?"

"He's here?" Armin's voice jumped an octave in excitement.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to see his stupid, dumb ass face right now. If you're too tired to deal with his shit, you can talk to him in the morning after breakfast."

Armin deflated. "Do you think he wouldn't want to see me? With how I am right now, I mean..."

Levi rolled his eyes. "Shit. Go inside already. He's upstairs in the room on the far left."

Armin's legs didn't work fast enough. He almost fell running up the stairs, and again when he threw Erwin's door open.

Erwin sat on a bed by the window, a book discarded face-down next to him. He stood when he saw Armin.

"Armin..."

Armin wanted to speak, wanted to gush, but his tongue didn't work. His lungs barely worked. He stood there, staring, chest rising and falling. Erwin would surely know what happened just by looking at him. Would know without a shred of doubt exactly how disgusting he was, how dirty.

Levi appeared behind him, giving him the slightest nudge so he was actually in the room. "I'll get the help to draw you a bath. There's bandages and shit for afterward."

Armin still stood silent. Everything in the room seemed ten sizes too big. Erwin nodded to Levi. "Thank you."

Armin could hear the way Levi's lip curled in displeasure. "You owe me. Don't do anything disgusting while we're here, I need my fucking beauty rest." Levi touched Armin's shoulder. "I'm serious. If the old man starts getting handsy, just call for me and I'll kill him. I've been wanting to for awhile now."

"That won't be necessary," Erwin said in a dangerous voice.

"Wasn't talking to you, shit-for-brains," Levi said before leaving, shutting the door lightly behind him.

"Armin," Erwin said, approaching carefully. "You're hurt."

Armin fell to his knees. Erwin caught him before he collapsed to the ground completely, holding him awkwardly, both kneeling.

Erwin's arms were strong and enveloping, Armin, tiny within them.

Armin broke apart with shuddering sobs. Erwin continued to hold him right there in the middle of the floor. He tried rubbing his back, but that made Armin flinch. So he mostly held the boy, petting his hair and smoothing it out of his face.

Armin could not form words, even to apologize for the mess of snot and tears he left on Erwin's shirt.

"You're safe now," Erwin murmured occasionally. He made sure not to shush him, for what little he understood of what Armin had been through, a few tears were surely expected. For years Armin conducted himself, kept himself alive and together as much as he could as a mere child, a few tears might cleanse the pain. In a way, being part of this was precious - whether consciously or not, Armin shared this part of himself with Erwin.

Armin wanted desperately to believe Erwin, but his assurances only made him cry all the harder. He clung to Erwin like a newborn child, red-faced, wet and incoherent. He cried so hard he began to heave. Erwin had to quickly fetch him a basin for his sick. The embarrassing display went on for the better part of two hours. Crying, dog-like whimpering, more puking. Erwin put a blanket around his shoulders at some point and moved him to the bed. Servants arrived with tea and food but Armin only drank a bit of water.

"You'll be alright," Erwin kept saying.

"No," Armin finally croaked, when all other resources inside him were exhausted. "This isn't... how could it ever be?"

"We'll try," Erwin said.

It didn't feel like enough to either of them.


	6. Chapter 6

"Let's get you cleaned up," Erwin said. His tone of voice conveyed a falsehood, that this would be a simple task.

Buttery light from the fire warmed and softened the rough space of the room. The inn was neatly kept, the furniture comfortable if not luxurious. It meant to serve what sparingly few traveling craftsmen, farmers, tutors and doctors still traveled between districts. Erwin could have afforded something nicer, but with finer things came more attention.

Armin lay half-curled on the bed, legs dangling off, blanket bunched around his shoulders, most of the mattress unused. Even drawing his legs up enough to lay on the bed fully seemed like far too much an effort. Moving, clearly out of the question.

Armin made a stubborn noise of protest. Words? Also too much effort. His throat hurt from crying, from years of opening and swallowing.

"Either I can do it or I can call a servant to, but we cannot afford to have you take ill from your wounds right now."

"What if I want Levi?" Armin inquired. The corner of his mouth twitched, nearly smiled.

Erwin paused. He could not be sure if Armin sincerely trusted Levi more, for whatever reason, or if he was trying to get a reaction. Whatever the case, Armin's comfort took precedence. "Then I will ask Levi." Levi, whom Erwin already owed a fine bottle of vine for this ordeal, would probably complain that he liked cleaning offices, but brats were a separate matter.

"You'd give up that easily? What if I seduced him in the bath? Don't you think you'd better keep an eye on me?" Armin stretched out in that catlike way of his, laying back in what might have been, under different circumstances, a suggestive pose. But Erwin saw nothing but bones and bruises, defended by blue eyes full of predatory keenness. Hadn't this boy been crying only hours ago?

"Do you think you need me to keep an eye on you?" Erwin asked, intentionally devoid of inflection or expression.

"If I were you, I would," Armin said. "You've risked a lot to secure me, after I said I wouldn't marry you. Don't you want to make sure I remain grateful and loyal?"

"What I want," Erwin said flatly, "Is to know what you want. Tell me what you want."

"What a shocking role reversal."

Armin attempted to sound cute, but Erwin heard the poison and anger that sweetness covered. He took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. "Should I get Levi?" Erwin imagined Levi in a comical night gown and stocking cap, sleep-tousled and swearing. This comforted him.

"You'll do," Armin said with a shrug. Certainly an attempt to provoke this time.

"Are you going to move?"

Armin shrugged again.

"I'll see about your bath."

Armin hadn't moved an inch by the time Erwin called a servant to reheat the bath and prepare the room, nor when the servant returned a few minutes later to inform him everything was ready.

"Are you going to move?" Erwin repeated. Armin lay with his blankets wrapped taut around his shoulders and stared at the wall.

"We don't have time for this," Erwin decided, and scooped Armin up in his arms. He thought Armin might yell and protest, in which case Levi would come running, but he said nothing. Armin let go of the blankets around his shoulders, letting them fall to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Erwin's neck. Erwin carried him into the next room with ease.

Per Erwin's instructions to keep the bath room warm and bright, the staff supplied a small brazier and many lamps. The steam and flickering light gave the dented copper tub a hazy glow. In silence, they worked together to get Armin out of his clothes. Armin braced the lip of the tub, looking both bruised and luminous as he struggled to stand. Erwin noted old scars on his back, already becoming familiar to him, along with new lashes, marks, and dirty, sticky paths like snail trails.

"Can I help you down?" When Armin nodded and turned to him, Erwin took him by the hips and ushered him down into the water.

Armin braced his shoulders as he stretched his legs out in the tub with a shuddering sigh.

Erwin handed Armin a bar of creamy, lavender speckled soap. Armin took it and began to scrub at his right arm listlessly.

"I wonder if I could scrub my skin off," Armin mumbled.

Erwin stared at the patterns the lamplight made on the wall behind Armin.

"I killed a man today," Armin's words rippled through the lake of their silence.

"How?" Erwin asked quietly.

"He was a man from the Military Police. I'd run from the warehouse I was stolen away to. I begged for his help." Armin ran the soap over his right arm in repeated, jerking motions, never moving on. "He forced me to suck him off and sold me to Madam Rose, then as a welcome he promptly raped me my first day on the job. He told me I should thank him for getting me out of that warehouse."

Erwin remained silent. He plucked the soap from Armin's hand, and began running it over his shoulder, then his back, mindful of the lash-wounds.

"And he was right, in a way. I would've died in the other place. It was filthy, cold, and there was little food. Many did not live to see the age of twelve."

"Lift your arm."

Armin lifted his left arm, and continued, "But I suppose that didn't make him less of a pig. That's what we call him. Called him."

Erwin scrubbed Armin's arm gently. "I didn't ask you who or why."

"You - oh, you asked me how." Armin's voice remained steady and precise, as if recounting something from a book. "He was saying how he was going to buy me from the madam, since she petitioned for a royal title with plans to get out of the business. I told him I was happy and wanted to wrap my arms around him. Instead I hit him in the head with a candelabra. While he was unconscious, I tied him up and suffocated him with a pillow. I made up a story about how he died from a heart attack while he was tied up and then Levi turned up."

"You just confessed a crime to a member of the king's army," Erwin pointed out with a grin, as if calling Armin's bluff during a friendly game of cards.

"Are you going to arrest me?" Armin asked without a trace of fear. Good.

"Don't go repeating your story," Erwin said, and placed the bar of soap in Armin's hand.

"You're not going to wash me? Don't you want to see if your goods are intact?"

"My goods are intact," Erwin assured him. "You've been making use of them all day." He pressed a kiss to Armin's damp forehead to seal his point.

"What?"

"Even when you recognized you weren't physically strong enough to kill that man by traditional means, you enacted a plan and carried it out."

"You couldn't have known that I was a murderer on top of a whore," Armin mused. He worked the bar of soap in his hands into a lather, and began working the lather through his hair. "I didn't know that until today."

"I knew you were brilliant. I knew you were a survivor."

"Things you typically look for in little boys in brothels?" The suds in Armin's hair reminded Erwin of lace. A tragedy the boy rejected the veil of marriage.

"It would be best if you do not bring up the topic of where I found you. While my soldiers give me my privacy, it could not be said that HQ is completely safe from gossip."

"I'm too old and too crippled to be a new recruit," Armin said, ducking under the water to rinse out the soap. When he emerged, tiny rivulets of gleamed on his face. Finally, he took the soap beneath the water, staring at Erwin while he cleaned all things hidden there. "They're going to ask what business I have working for you."

"Not if Levi tells them not to."

"They'll just ask when they think he's not listening," Armin shrugged, producing the bar of soap from behind him. "Are you sure you're not just bringing me home to your men as a treat?"

"My men?"

"Oh, I should've said women and men. I'll fuck the women too, I really don't care. I wouldn't mind fulfilling my duties in such a way. I admire what you do. With support you're our first real hope of winning this war someday. I wish to contribute however I can."

Erwin could not determine whether or not Armin was being serious. His words were presented in the careless manner of a joke, yet this wasn't the first time he spoke of servicing him out of patriotic duty.

"If that were the case, there wouldn't be much you could do about it now," Erwin said bluntly. The corner of Armin's eye twitched, but he otherwise remained unnerved. "Don't worry. I'm not the kind of commander who shares supper with his soldiers. Sharing you with them would be ten times as vulgar."

"And if I wanted to share myself with them?"

"Is that what you want to do?"

An eyebrow raised in challenge. "I might."

"I think you'll find you lack the time to organize such activities without it becoming a disruption. Levi does not look kindly upon disruptions, and neither do I."

"So, don't get caught at it, in other words."

"I'll remind you that you just confessed a murder to me, and are a known prostitute. If you refuse to work for me seriously, I won't be motivated to protect you from any charges that come your way."

"Is that a threat?" Armin wrinkled his nose.

"Not if you do your job."

"My job?"

"Research, at first. We'll need you up to speed what with what we've been doing. Then, drafting formations. I want to see what you can do."

"I thought my job was going to be to sit in your lap and giggle during meetings."

"You can be a really nasty kid when you want, can't you?" Erwin said, with more fondness than surprise. 

"Hm-mm," Armin sighed airily, "I wonder why."

 

Erwin woke up painfully hard. Since arriving in his thirties, he rarely woke with morning erections. Such beautiful irony this problem would rear its head the one morning he had to share a room with a troubled boy who spent the day crying hysterically, and the evening alternating between attempting to anger him or seduce him. Neither outcome came to pass, though some tensions mounted when Erwin insisted on examining Armin's wounds before he climbed out of the bath.

"I'm unclean, down there," Armin said, sounding strained. "I need a skin of warm water mixed with some salt, to combat the chance of infection. Luckily that part heals pretty quickly, though for the horseback ride it might be best to use some padding."

Armin sank back into the bath, looking sullen while Erwin consulted the servant.

"Did you want me or the servant to help you with this? Or should I get Levi?" Erwin acknowledged Armin seemed a bit attached to the man.

"I'll do it," Armin said, sounding shaky. "I've done it plenty of times on my own."

"Your hands are unsteady. I've given you three options. Choose one."

Armin's lower lip trembled. "I said I'll do it."

"I would never let one of my soldiers treat themselves if they didn't have to, even the ones with field med training," Erwin said. "This is a point on which I will not budge. You will have help with this, and be examined by our doctor first thing when we get to HQ."

"The servant will complain," Armin said almost inaudibly. "Bad enough how I've behaved all day, we can't give the people who work here more reason to gossip about what's happened."

"Levi, then?"

"No!" Armin yelped. "I won't share myself with your men. You said you don't want me to."

How could this be considered sharing himself? Erwin examined the genuine panic on Armin's face, so different than the mask he'd kept in place during most of their bath time conversation. Wounds like this must be difficult to share with anyone. Even Erwin was hardly better in practice than the pig who inflicted them. Yet he could not back down from setting a hard line. Judging from Armin's prior attempts to find chinks in his armor and exploit them, it would not serve him later to be gentle now.

Though he did wish to be kinder, Erwin never let sensitivity guide his qualms. He could not afford to, even with Armin.

"That leaves me."

"...Do you have enough to tip the servant generously?" Armin worried his lower lip. Tears began to form.

"Plenty."

Erwin ended up at the end of the tub, letting Armin brace himself on his arms while the servant used a cleansing douche. As he held the fluid in, Armin trembled and pressed his face into Erwin's chest, soaking his shirt with tears once again.

"Does it hurt?" Erwin murmured, smoothing Armin's hair.

"I'm disgusting," Armin whispered.

"No," Erwin said with certainty, "You are the least disgusting person I've ever met."

Armin nodded once. Erwin found himself overcome with an emotion: not pity, compassion or tenderness, for these were emotions he never burdened himself with and tended to banish on sight. He looked at Armin, pink from the bath, marked with scabs of red and black and bruises purple and green, his mouth pressed to a firm white line, and was filled with awe. He could only compare the feeling to what he experienced the first time he witnessed the forest of giant trees. Erwin felt dwarfed by a boy half his size and age.

But it was the memory of Armin holding onto him, utterly helpless and dependent for a few stark moments, that followed him into sleep. His dreams were confusing messes of twined fingers and blue eyes, and thus, he woke up hard.

A warm weight settled near his feet. Erwin felt the itch of a gaze boring through his eyelids.

Armin did not give him time to decide whether or not to open his eyes. "It occurs to me that I confessed to murdering my last client, a fellow soldier of the king's army, and you did not seem the least bit concerned."

Erwin kept his eyes closed. "You have the right to fight and survive. If that means killing someone who'd harm you, then it's necessary."

"How viciously pragmatic." A pause. "If that's the case, then there are a lot of people who need killing."

"Find a way for us to defeat the titans and I'll help you track down every person who ever touched you in a way you didn't like and kill them myself."

"And if you are among them?"

"That's why we wait until the war is over."

His blankets lifted. The mattress dipped only a little beneath Armin's scant presence crawled in next to Erwin. "Oh," said Armin, sounding amused, "I didn't think guys as old as you had problems like these." Light fingertips traced Erwin through the tent in his nightshirt. "Do you have to pee?"

"Don't - you don't need to."

"Keep your eyes closed," Armin breathed as he dipped under the nightshirt, "And you don't have to accept responsibility."

The wet sound of Armin spitting into his hand. He stroked Erwin to complete hardness, carefully pulling the foreskin back so he could lick at the places more sensitive, exposed. Erwin thought his touch seemed hesitant, maybe even forced.

"You don't need to."

"Maybe I want to." Armin's mouth hovered near. A ridiculous notion: he was speaking to Erwin's dick and not to him.

"You couldn't possibly want to, after yesterday."

"You couldn't possibly know what I want."

Erwin shuddered at the slow, almost pondering licks Armin worked over him.

"That's right, darling, just keep your eyes closed."

Erwin ran his fingertips along the nape of Armin's neck. His skin was smooth and soft as finely buffed wood before being polished, warm and new. Intending to map the notches of his spine, Erwin's fingers brushed the gauze dressing he helped apply last night. Did Armin think he would not wish to see that? As far as they were now (Armin sucking his balls, jerking him off with a fine steady motion), it would hardly matter. Erwin knew his situation was shameful, damned. But Armin insisted, and it was no sacrifice to surrender this to him.

He remained in the dark, though, while Armin sucked him off. The room filled with those faint, lewd noises, and their mutual, uneven breath. There was a certain earnestness about the way Armin welcomed him down his throat. Erwin could feel the brush of his button nose in his pubic hair. He very much wanted to see it, but his eyes remained screwed shut.

Armin hadn't forbid him to open them, but his urging rang true. _Keep your eyes closed and you don't have to accept responsibility._

Maybe Armin didn't want him to accept it either. He initiated this, though Erwin couldn't follow his reasoning. If he opened his eyes, would this stop?

He didn't come in Armin's mouth. While nothing could compare to that velvet heat, he found the alternative entirely pleasant: Armin wrapped the over sheet over his tip to catch the spill as he brought him off.

"Yes, that's right, let it out," Armin breathed in his ear as he came. Erwin turned to kiss him, just barely landing on the corner of his mouth. Armin tittered softly, and hugged him close. Erwin found himself drifting.

When Erwin finally opened his eyes, he found Armin seated, fully clothed, on the chair by the window. The winter morning light painted him in cool colors, his hair as pale as wheat straw, his skin like dandelion milk. He held Erwin's book on his lap but did not read it. Instead he stared out the window, the blue of his eyes made less distinct by the gray sky.

"Good morning." Erwin could think of nothing else to say. "Are you feeling better today?" Armin looked like a boy who was waiting for his friends to walk him to school. He should have been, but had life not taken him to the brothel, he would be working the fields or strapping on the harnesses of a soldier.

"I don't think I'll kill you," Armin said. "From the moment you entered the Garden, I wanted you, in a foolish, selfish way, like a child coveting a toy." Armin bowed his head, running his fingers over the embossed cover of Erwin's book. It was an old tome full of fairy tales, nothing one might expect of an illustrious commander, known for his effectiveness and brutality. Erwin enjoyed most of all its meager hints of anti-Wallist subtext, and the beautiful illustrations.

"Now you have me." Erwin slipped out of bed, splashing a bit of water on his face from the basin and glancing at himself in the mirror. He would need to send for shaving supplies and unpack his razor.

"Do I really?" Armin gazed at him intently, his eyes storm-colored, his expression unreadable.

Erwin found great solace in the loud, irritated banging on the door that could only be Levi.

"Come down to breakfast," Levi said, "Normal people have been up for hours now."

"As if he's a normal person," Armin whispered, looking pleased.

Erwin called, "I must shave and dress."

Armin set the book aside and stepped over to the door. He did not cover his limp. He opened the door a crack, beaming at Levi.

"Is there porridge?"

Predictably, Levi did not smile back. "Looked like they had bread, sausages, lots of cheeses. Didn't see porridge."

Armin frowned.

"We can ask for porridge if that's what you want."

"With honey?" Armin smiled again. "Maybe a little fruit?"

Armin let himself out of the room, taking Levi's arm for support.

Erwin could all but hear a vein in Levi's forehead pop, his teeth clenching hard. "Sure. Whatever."

Erwin listened to Armin attempt to draw Levi into happy babble as they headed downstairs. As he unfolded his undergarments and stepped into his pants, he saw his book fell open when Armin set it down. Right in the center of the book was perhaps its most famous tale, the one of a girl who slept in a scullery and devoted herself to a family that did not love her. A tree that grew upon her mother's grave granted her a wish to go to a ball, where she met the youngest princess and fell in love.

There was a note in the margin, fresh ink, smudged onto the page above it.

Erwin could see it was penned in a neat hand, he could only assume it was Armin's.

The note simply read, _Bullshit!_

Erwin laughed. He could not stop for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what passes for hurt/comfort for these two. :|


	7. Chapter 7

Needles of cold pricked Armin's cheeks. His body still ached from the torments of life in the brothel and the violent expulsions of emotion the day before, but he wore that pain like a cowl, a cloud of numbness separating him from the world. He welcomed the contrast of sharp cold, nearly rejoiced in its refreshment. Its immediacy felt more sincere than the recollection of bruises and lacerations. With that cold came the promise of a fire, a bed and a purpose. These discomforts proved the reality of this future, though he still caught himself looking at Erwin over his shoulder for confirmation.

Erwin's high, pale cheeks were painted ruddy by the cold. His eyes echoed the distant blue of the late autumn sky. Staring at him, sometimes Armin assumed him nothing more than a fabrication, a dream of a man he read of long ago, tall, intelligent and commanding, with huge, gentle hands. Older than him, yes, but terribly young for all his accomplishments. This could be a man he dreamed up, a comfort to replace the warmth lost by forgetting his friends' faces. He would wake up in a few hours with head pounding from too much vine and Madam Rose warning him to be ready for the next customer. The cold proved this worry wrong, forcing a thin trail of snot from Erwin's nose, dripping in an undignified way Armin would never have thought to fantasize about. One more reason to be glad of the cold.

Riding with Levi would have made more sense, but Armin didn't let them make that decision. Leaving the inn, he recognized Levi's horse from the day before. He strode over to Erwin's horse instead, each step even and deliberate. Erwin hoisted him up by the hips, and away they went. No words passed between at departure.

The journey proceeded almost entirely in silence, save the clatter of horse shoes and the jingling of tackle. This time, Armin safeguarded against bouncing in the saddle by stuffing a cushion from the inn into his trousers. Not the most dignified way, but between that, the beer with breakfast and his familiar cloak of numbness the pain seemed distant.

They took a short lunch in the woods a few miles from a small village. No one seemed interested in talking much, so they ate cold meat, bread, cheese and apples, shared with the horses, and continued on their way.

Armin watched as the last vestiges of civilization bled into the red and orange of autumn-colored trees. He drank in the little streams and flurries of birds, even the dark, soft mane and ears of Erwin's steed. Everything sang with life, yet he felt only his own constricted, tiny breaths and the ache of that initial cold, desperately reminding him that he, too, was part of this world.

"You'll see the castle soon," Erwin said as the daylight waned, "It's an old place, completely useless to the nobles due to its location, which is the only reason we were granted it. But it is strong, built to withstand sieges."

Armin closed his eyes and listened, imagining the aged stone walls in the solid strength of Erwin's arms and chest. For once, the thought of walls seemed a comfort - something to keep things out rather than trap him. This was the strength of walls built by his design: it might be Erwin's strength that built this protection, but it was Armin's talents that drew in and utilized that strength.

He tried very hard not to think about how Erwin and Levi would venture outside Wall Sina in the spring, stripping him of this security, leaving him only with cold stone and ivy to defend against the outside world.

"Gonna ride ahead," Levi said, "To tell the doc to expect another aberrant type."

Watching him go, Armin asked, "Is he always so disapproving of you? Or am I the cause of it?"

"Levi and I are realists. Soldiers." Erwin replied, as if that answered all of it.

"I just want to remain on his good side," Armin said, making sure to laugh so Erwin knew he was joking. As near as he could tell, he _was_ on Levi's good side, or at least Levi's not-bad side. Perhaps undeservedly so.

"Don't concern yourself with such things."

They slowed as they approached the gates of the castle.

"I need to learn how to fight," Armin said, his voice loud and abrupt.

"Of course. Once the doctor gives her permission, we'll have you on a regimen that will include both comprehensive study and hand-to-hand. You're too old to really learn the 3dMG properly."

"You mean I can't because of my leg. Don't try to spare my feelings." Armin felt a wicked smile on his lips, his voice creeping up high and manic. He barely restrained the urge to cackle.

"Soldiers are expected to have perfect reaction time, to utilize the 3dMG intuitively after finishing their training. A typical recruit will have logged in over five thousand hours of training at bare minimum. All of this is better learned in youth, when reaction time, reflexes and physical capability are high and habits and mentality are malleable. Disabilities can be worked around if necessary, though it's not ideal. Missing your window, on the other hand, will always put you at a disadvantage."

"I apologize for spending that time learning to suck cocks instead."

Armin did not turn to look at Erwin. He heard the length of his pause, counting each moment of it. He watched the soldiers open the gate as they approached.

"If you do not trust my choice, I can drop you at one of the labor camps tomorrow. I understand it is a hard life, but your skill-set would surely be appreciated by the other refugees. You might not even need to work in the fields."

Armin's smile fell off his face and shattered.

"I think it would be a betrayal to humanity to waste your potential that way. Do you disagree?"

The walls of the castle were not yet wrapped around him, Armin thought frantically. But just in a few moments, they'd be inside them, with the gate locked behind them.

"I can't do this, I thought I could but I can't, you're wrong about me," Armin said, slipping out from under one of Erwin's arms. Erwin steadied the horse before he hit the ground. Armin tumbled awkwardly in the mud. He picked himself up and thoughtlessly tried to run. He knew the futility of it: the day grew dark, and they were miles from other civilization. He was a criminal twice over at worse, an unwanted, unskilled refugee at best. Yet he tried to force his lame right leg into the proper stride of running, ignored the scream of pain through his battered body and the icy burn in his lungs.

He fell. Catching himself with his hands didn't keep the mud from his clothes and face. 

Hot tears sprung to Armin's eyes. _Why haven't I learned better than to run?_

Now Erwin's high, perfect boots were marred by thick mud, when moments before they were messed only by a few splatters from the road. Armin could not see anything but his boots from this place. Erwin placed a hand on his forehead.

"Feverish," he said. Relief washed over Armin - Erwin just granted him a convenient excuse for his embarrassing outburst. "It's too bad we couldn't have let you rest, but we could not risk discovery. Can you speak?"

"No," Armin said despondently. "I can't. Don't talk to me."

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Nowhere new." Armin tried without success to stand. Erwin caught him by the shoulders, then carefully scooped him up in his arms.

"Medic!" Erwin called as he carried Armin back toward the gates of the castle. A man with a bandanna led Erwin's horse inside the gates. A tall, bespectacled individual ran over to them.

"She was with a patient when Levi came in. They're still getting a bed ready."

Armin squinted at the soldier curiously.

"This is Hanji Zoe. They'll be helping you get up to speed about titans, and it will be their reports you'll be reading about our recent missions."

"Good to have you back, boss." To Armin, they said, "Can you sit up? Look at me."

Zoe reached forward to take Armin's pulse. Armin elbowed Erwin's chest as he attempted to avoid the touch. Erwin didn't flinch.

"Hey, easy there," Zoe said cheerfully. "I'm just getting your vitals so the doctor won't have to. Struggling's just going to mean it takes longer in the end."

"As far as I can tell, he's not concussed," Erwin explained. "But he's suffering from wounds all over his body from an attack yesterday, as well as long-term mistreatment, and possibly malnutrition. I believe he may be feverish from complications. We treated the wounds as well as we could but it's possible something became infected."

"And if there wasn't any infection before, he rolled around in the mud! Only Erwin's cute little child bride could make this troublesome an entrance!"

Armin elbowed Erwin's chest again, deliberately this time.

"You will not call him that in front of the other soldiers," Erwin said.

"Erwin recruited me. I'm to be a tactical consultant." Armin did not stumble over the title in the last, did not allow his voice to lack authority even while being carried.

"Right," Zoe said, the lamplight obscuring their eyes behind the spectacles. " _Commander Smith_ has produced for us a civilian consultant as young as the greenest recruits, who must be kept out of sight as much as possible. I'm excited to see what has him so worked up about you, kid."

"Arlert. Armin Arlert."

Zoe guffawed. The light seemed to hit their face with total honesty. "Well, Alert! You'd better rest up so I can work you to death as soon as possible!"

 

Erwin did not get a chance to see his new civilian advisor alone for weeks. He read or heard updates on Armin's status, or stopped for a brief and clinical chat while the doctor hovered nearby. Doctor Van Hout noted he looked her straight in the eye and lied when she asked about old wounds, saying everything from a poorly-healed fracture of his right hip and ankle to deep scar tissue was from falling down the stairs clumsily. She did not think this a symptom of denial, but a show of 'testing the waters', to see if she'd question his lies. As usual, the doctor of the Scouting Legion simply stuck with the facts.

In spite of, or perhaps because of his panic attack before, Armin eagerly went to work. He bunked with Petra Rall, having befriended her in the infirmary, and could often be seen trailing her, Hanji or even Levi, a book open for notes. If anyone questioned the lad's presence, they didn't bring their complaints to command. Life continued as usual, with the bustle of soldiers making ready for winter and secretly testing on titans. According to Hanji's report, Armin hadn't demonstrated the least bit of concern for the creatures when they showed them to him, instead launching into a series of questions about their upkeep.

An hour after sunset of another busy day, the first heavy snow of the season drifted lazily to the ground. Erwin stepped outside for a bit of air, enjoying both its brisk, crisp edge and its solemn silence. Armin walked near the gates, making little puffs of breath against the backdrop of old oak and ancient stone, scuffling along with uneven strides and hands deep in his pockets. Though he could not officially wear the wings of freedom, he wore a tan uniform over thermals, and a green without iconography. Armin poked the toe of his boot in the snow as he walked along, leaning on the wall.

Erwin followed him, his heavy boots crunching the snow and frozen ground. Armin smiled at him. He took Erwin's arm, brushing off a bit of dirt and snow from his other hand.

"How are your studies? Hanji reports you're making quite a lot of progress."

"I have a lot of catching up to do. Memorizing facts is not difficult for me. I'm eager to move onto the theoretical side of things."

Erwin let Armin lead the walk. They ascended to the stairs to the outside wall with careful steps. Armin let go of Erwin's arm, standing a step ahead of him at the top of the stairway. Even like this, Erwin stood taller.

"I didn't know whether I should visit you," Armin said. "If I should ever ask to see you."

"You are my tactical advisor, you may visit me whenever you wish - in fact, I'd like to see your observations on prior missions as soon as possible. I cannot personally act as your tutor, but I trust you to act with discretion."

Armin wrapped his arms around Erwin's waist, face pressed to his shoulder.

"Why trust me? You've exposed me to this place's secrets without hesitation. You brought me here without true, ample proof of my ability level, let alone my loyalty."

"It would be unwise for me to trust you completely," Erwin admitted, "But your own instincts would prevent you from doing something so foolhardy as attempting to run or expose us."

"Because any friend I've made here would kill me in a moment on your command. They trust me even less than you do. And you'd have me killed if that's what the situation called for."

"I see I haven't underestimated your intelligence."

Armin's eyes glinted blue and gold in the sporadic, flickering lamplight. "You're an awful human being." He spoke it more as a compliment than an admonishment.

"We are all what we must be to win this war," Erwin said sincerely.

A pause, and Armin offered Erwin his hand. Ermin's hand enveloped Armin's with warm strength.

"Do you care?" Armin asked as they walked along the wall's perimeter. The forest lay still, black and white against the bruise-colored sky. Its silence put Erwin to mind of one of his fairy tales, an enchanted forest beneath a castle, where an old soldier fell in love with the youngest dancing prince. If he reached out to snap a branch from a tree, would it cry out and warn the world of their trespasses?

"What are you asking me?" Erwin considered the small weight of Armin's hand in his, how Armin still pulled their movement and conversation.

"You might have appealed to my heart, to my humanity, rather than remind me of how powerless I am. Don't you think my own feelings would be enough to keep me here? I believe in this war." Armin stopped completely, raising his chin. Yet his words were gentle, not defiant.

"Should I make you think you have a choice in being here now? I have no business with your heart, nor anyone else's. You are simply an asset."

Armin reached out, brushing his thumb along the line of Erwin's cheek. "Liar. You need our hearts, more than minds or skills or determination. And you know that. Your biggest weapon is your illusion of good intention. Isn't that why your first attempt to steal me was to appeal to sentiment?"

Erwin spoke no objection, though several fluttered to the tip of his tongue.

Armin turned his back to the forest, looking into the lit courtyard. Dita Ness shuffled through the snow to the stables, probably double-checking the horses were warm enough in their stable.

"I understand," Armin said. "I live like you do."

"Single-minded to your cause?"

Armin smiled serenely. "Alive, even having murdered my heart. Alive, and only doing what is important so I might justify having done something so cowardly as giving up what makes me human."

"Surviving is not cowardly."

Armin squeezed Erwin's hand. "Let me be the one person you don't need to lie to."

Erwin turned, leaned down to brush his lips over Armin's forehead.

Armin said, "No, not like that." He pulled Erwin down by the chin, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

Their lips were cold and dry. In Erwin's home and place of work, the kiss felt out of place, almost obscene.

Armin ran his tongue carefully over Erwin's lower lip. For once Erwin wished he were softer, his lips not chapped, his hands smooth enough to truly feel the silk of Armin's hair against his palm. Armin said, "Take me to your room." His eyes and smile glowed in the cold.

 

Someone built a titan out of snow near the mess hall door. The details were impeccable, a little bit of ink dribbled to make out its terrible teeth and eyes popping out with a sort of blank rage. Eren stared at the figure in distaste, wondering how anyone could possibly find time to put such an effort it so close to their final evaluations. Especially since they surely knew what the outcome would be. Eren scowled, making a first.

He walked into the mess hall a moment later, cursing and brushing snow off his knuckles. "Who the hell filled that snow titan's head with rocks?"

"It wasn't a titan," said Jean Kirschtein, "It was you with that scary expression you get. That's why his head was full of rocks."

Grunting, Eren got in line for food and slunk into his usual spot next to Mikasa. Three years in training, he really should be used to Jean's crap. Ever since their early days of training, Jean resented Eren, so they butted heads constantly. Eren understood they were similar personalities, but couldn't find a way to make that work into anything other than a grudging peace when necessary. They were the definition of familiarity breeding contempt.

"You really should work on your personality if you're planning to serve the king, Yeager," Kirschtein called over. "I heard the Military Police have epic prank wars. Should be fun, if you can learn to take a joke."

Mikasa touched Eren's arm. Her dark eyes seemed to grow more obscure with every passing year, as she retreated beneath the calm, still waters of her heart. Only Eren could read the meaning beneath her surface, the words she spoke without moving her lips. _Don't._

Per tradition, Eren ignored the warning. "If you have that kind of drive for something that pointless, you should use it to kill the titans! Not everyone is here to waste their time!"

"Eren the hypocrite's at it again," Jean sang out. "If you want to become titan food, that's your choice, but don't tell the rest of us what to do when you're gunning for a life of luxury! "

"Like I give a damn about that! There's someone I've got to find!"

"Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that. Marco's serving the king, and you're saving your friend. Convenient that it involves not getting within bite-range of a titan."

Mikasa squeezed Eren's shoulder.

Eren clenched his fists, and sat back down. "What kind of idiot revels in his own lack of pride?"

"Eat your food, Eren," Mikasa intoned.

Eren shoveled steaming-hot potatoes into his mouth without flinching. His eyes watered. "Maybe I shouldn't join the Military Police. I don't think that's what Armin would have wanted..."

Mikasa gave the exact same answer to this as she always did: "Armin would want you to live. He saved our lives before, and helped us get by in the refugee camp. If you join the Military Police, you'll live."

"But he could be dead," Eren said, stabbing a rough piece of roast with his fork. He shoved it in his mouth, chewing savagely. "If he was alive, wouldn't he have written us by now? He knew we wanted to enlist. He's smart. He would've tried to find us."

"Maybe he couldn't. If they sold him as a slave..." Mikasa's gaze wandered to distant, ugly memories. "We can't know what happened."

"Armin wanted to be free more than anything," Eren said, stabbing another piece of roast. Mikasa sopped up a bit of his gravy with the heel of her bread.

"Armin wanted all of us to be free."

"But I could help humanity become free in the Scouting Legion. I'd at least know I was doing the right thing, instead of throwing my lot in with a lazy lot like Jean."

Mikasa nibbled her bread. "If you join the Military Police, you'll live," she repeated. "And we might find Armin."

"You're right. Armin _has_ to be alive. Without him, how would we even know how to find the sea?"

Eren chased a bit of carrot around his plate with a fork, glowering. He brought his fork down too hard without spearing it. It shot out from beneath the tines of his fork, striking Jean on the back of the head.

"Hey! What hit me?"

Eren didn't look up from his plate. Armin would have warned him not to cause trouble, that getting disciplined could cost him points. He manged to keep a straight face until the fuss died down, though it robbed him of the opportunity to gloat at catching Jean off-guard.

 

Erwin instructed Armin not to visit until after lights-out. They needed to maintain some pretense of professionalism to the rest of the legion, especially since Armin's unusual presence already evoked curiosity. Fifteen minutes after the final lamps were snuffed, a soft knock came on the door. Erwin went to the door with his small oil lamp. Armin stood leaning on the door frame, smiling in his night shirt.

Erwin welcomed him inside, locking the door behind him. Armin threw himself on Erwin's bed, testing its bounce. "Oof - I thought it would be softer!" he laughed quietly. Armin stretched with hands clasped behind his head. Erwin recognized the pose from their times in the brothel, though he'd been naked, waiting, prepared for Erwin then.

"Well, Commander, I'm ready for you. Put the lamp on the side table. I haven't a proper chance to admire your muscles."

Erwin did as asked and sat on the side of the bed. He undid the buttons to the shirt he hadn't bothered to replace with his nightclothes. "How are your wounds?"

"I wouldn't come here if I wasn't up for it. Take off your shirt."

Erwin pulled his shirt off his shoulders. Armin traced the muscles of his back, the faint scarring from one of his 3dMg straps.

"Why are you doing this?" Erwin asked, almost accusatory.

"That's the kind of question you should've asked me before you agreed to have me here." Armin laughed. He pulled his night shirt over his head. The faint light from the lamp made Armin into a figure of gold, some artist's beautiful ideal of youth at the cusp of adulthood. The wounds from weeks ago were healing well, leaving faint scars hidden by shadow. Erwin's throat constricted. His mouth went dry. Again, felt an unmistakable sense of obscenity. Like bad habits and debts better paid in back alleys, Armin should have no place in his real bed, in his place of work. This part of Armin should have been left back in the Garden, with only his keen mind working for Erwin here in HQ.

And yet Erwin crawled over him, covering his mouth with heavy kisses licking like slow flames.

Armin asked to be here. No, demanded to.

And if Erwin were as good and responsible as the image he attempted to maintain, he would deny Armin's demand. Erwin could not understand Armin's motives, though he knew they must be more complicated than lust. Yet he buckled to his baser instincts, not wanting to think of that, wanting to lose himself in the heat of Armin's mouth like he did before.

"Erwin," Armin whispered urgently. He looked up into Erwin's eyes, licking his lips as he reached down to touch his own dick, already half-hard from a few minutes of sloppy kissing.

"Armin," Erwin said. It shouldn't be so easy to say that name, he thought. He should at least stumble and almost say 'Arlert.'

"Have I earned the honor of being fucked by you yet?" Armin asked. Erwin saw in him the boy he'd only known in the brothel, saw Hycanith, eyes glassy and lost, like a slave to the bottle staring down a fine vintage.

Erwin ran his thumb over Armin's lips. The boy parted his lips, licking and moaning. Erwin felt his cock twitch powerfully.

"Not yet," Erwin growled.

"Why not?"

Erwin gently withdrew his thumb, rubbing is dampness over Armin's nipple. He gently bit the other. Armin squirmed, squeezing his now-hard dick as if to soothe it.

"Because I'm saying no."

Armin's hand stilled.

Erwin completely withdrew contact, sitting up. He could feel his erection trapped heavy and hot against his leg, his trousers uncomfortably tight against it.

Armin sat up as well, mouth set in a taciturn line.

"Either of us can say no. Do you understand that?"

"That's a fine thing for you to say _now_!" Armin said, tears forming in his eyes. "If you grow bored of me, if I don't succeed as your tactician, you'll just throw me in a refugee camp. I'm nothing if I can't further your plans. With my injuries, I'll just end up like I was! I have to do this. You like me like this, don't you? You need me to be this! I told you it's fine if I serve as your stress relief!"

"I like you honest," Erwin said, daring to stroke some of Armin's hair out of his face. "If you're doing this because you want to control me, or because you're frightened, I don't want you to. I assure you I won't set myself back an asset because of my ego."

"What if I'm no good as your tactician?" A few tears slipped down Armin's cheek. Erwin wanted badly to kiss them away, but settled for brushing them away with his thumb. "I don't mind it if I'm here just for your comfort. I believe in your work. I'll do what I need to. J ust don't send me away from you. From here."

"If you believe in what I'm doing here, why are you so convinced you can't help?" Erwin allowed his voice to raise a little bit. "You say you believe, but you don't believe what I see in your ability. I don't have patience for that kind of person, Arlert. I can't change the trespasses that led me to you, and would not want to. There are ways you can contribute. Hanji can use an assistant, as can Doctor Van Hout, but frankly, you have not been here long enough to know if you will amount to what I think you will. Trust me. Give it time. You don't have to seduce me in order to maintain your place. I'm a despicable person, just as bad as you must think, but I won't send you from here unless you do something to betray our cause. I had you taken from the Garden, you are my responsibility now. I don't shirk responsibilities."

Armin began to cry in earnest, placing his face in hands. The effort of stubbornly holding in his sobs made his shoulders shake. Erwin rubbed Armin's neck and shoulders. The spark from earlier had entirely dissipated.

"But you kept saying if I had no choice. You all but kidnapped me. I thought - it is the same, it is the same. What will I do if I cannot be this? How will he punish me if I can't perform?"

Erwin admitted, "I've been hard on you. We need you here. And... I wish for your company as well, but I'd sacrifice your company in favor of your contributions."

"How cruel. You should be telling me you yearn for my company. Do you treat all your lovers so callously?"

"I don't have other lovers. Haven't in many years."

Armin chuckled, wiping his cheeks.

"If I apologized for the way I've treated you, would you accept it?"

Armin crawled into Erwin's lap. "No."

Erwin stroked Armin's back. "I won't apologize. Regret is against my policy, so I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't expect it."

"You don't, do you?" Armin kissed him. It was invasive, harsh and punishing. When he finally pulled back, he panted like an animal, growing hard against Erwin's stomach.

He hopped off Erwin's lap, pulling his night shirt over his head. Erwin watched him march stiffly to the door. "Please unlock this."

Erwin did just that, making every effort not to touch Armin.

"I might never come back here," Armin whispered with a nasty grin. "But I promise you it's fine - if you beg me, ask me, even force me... I'm fine if it ends up that way. I'll know I was right."

"It might be better if you never come back here," Erwin said evenly.

It would certainly be less complicated.

 

Petra awakened to the sound of Armin stumbling into his bed. She recognized his limping walk, and promptly turned over to sleep again. She didn't drift off quickly as she hoped. Just as sleep started to embrace her, the sound of Armin's muffled but heavy breathing interrupted her. Sometimes having a soldier's senses was no advantage.

Petra understood the phenomenon of masturbation. She'd been his age once, equal parts potential and wild hormones, holed up with dozens of teenage girls during her training days. Just the same, hearing it was awkward. She made mental note to try and encourage Armin to have 'alone time' when he could be completely assured of privacy.

Armin went silent only a few minutes later, or so Petra thought. Just as she settled onto her back, she heard the boy crying, sobs shoved into the pillow. Petra remembered that sound from her training days just as well.

 

No one witnessed Erwin masturbating.

He fucked his hand furiously, face pressed into the pillow Armin rested his head on minutes earlier. The clean smell of the boy lingered.

He could not afford to lose to his desires now, not with Armin's opinion on him at stake. He should be nurturing the boy's skills as a soldier, not imagining his small form bouncing over him, his snug heat tight around his cock.

In his fantasies Armin kissed him like before, kissed him full of darkness, shame and hate. He came hard.

 

Eren stared at the shape of the bunk over his head. He memorized the shape of it over years of sleepless nights. He knew every rectangle, every metal bolt, every line in the wood grain, but the shape of a bunk and the creak of the mattress never felt much like home. The bunks, the classroom, the mess hall, even the mountains, forests, lake and fields were nothing more than temporary spaces. They were hollow. Each laugh, each word, each scrape of blades and hiss of 3dMG would be replaced in a few months with new recruits. Yet he would not forget the harsh shapes of this bunk easily. They would be with him for whatever remained of his life.

Restlessness never seemed the plague the rest of the 104th like it did Eren, save nights too hot or too cold. Eren once asked Reiner if he and Bertholdt ever had nightmares about the titan attacks on their village. Reiner explained that they definitely did, just quietly. They couldn't afford to disturb anyone, back in the shelters after the walls fell.

Eren, Mikasa and Armin's shelter hadn't seemed a bad place in that respect. The guards hurled abuses, but the refugees mostly left each other alone and were willing to trade and cooperate. After Armin's grandfather left, Armin took up his unspoken job of lulling the other two children to sleep with fairy tales. When Armin disappeared, they no longer told stories. Eren told Mikasa how he definitely, definitely was going to join the Military Police and find Armin and bring him home, leaving out they had no home to return to. Sometimes, Mikasa asked him if he remembered the girl with the radish-name, or the cinder-girl, or the girl who fooled with witch in the house with chicken legs. They would play at trying to tell each other, filling in the gaps, but it was never the same. Sleeping without Mikasa near only compounded Armin's absence.

Sometimes when Eren closed his eyes he saw a knife sinking into a man's back, or the frightened eyes of his mother staring back at him. Sometimes he yearned to see his mother and only saw blood and her lower half. Sometimes he saw his father's glasses glinting in lamplight, and that skeleton key in his fingers. Sometimes he called out for his father, and his head burst with pain.

Sometimes he saw Armin, apple-cheeked and wonder-filled as he pored over his grandfather's forbidden book. Sometimes he saw Armin, his arms full of bread, looking wounded. Sometimes he saw Armin, clutching his grandfather's hat, tears streaming down his face.

Sometimes he saw Armin bouncing with rare fortitude as they trudged to meet the wagons that took them to the fields each day. The ground froze the night before, and it would be unwise for Eren and Mikasa to keep functioning in old, too-small coats. Armin brokered a trade with some other refugees, navigating the transactions as shrewdly as a weathered merchant. He kept Eren's old coat for himself, trading his and Mikasa's old ones for a few coins, and bargained for two larger coats, promising help with letters and math for one coat and half his month's rations for the other. "We need to hold on to as much money as we can, though not so much others know we have it. Besides, it's fine I don't grow more anyway, after all," he joked, "Then I won't need a new coat."

Mikasa shared a look with Eren. _We'll have to share ours with him._ His stomach growled preemptively, but he nodded without hesitation.

"They also threw in some gloves for us! They're a bit threadbare, but they're better than nothing, and they even had this extra set they found that I can use. They're big and they smell of mucking stables but it's not so bad. They're my favorite co-- damn!"

Mikasa and Eren blinked at him in mild shock at his curse.

Armin held up one green glove with a frown. "I'll be right back. I must have dropped it in the shelter. Button up your coats! I'll meet you there!"

"They'll leave you if you're late," Mikasa warned.

"I won't be late. I'll run. I'll sprint!"

But Armin didn't return. As the last of the other refugees piled into the wagon, Eren began to fret. "We should go check on him. He wouldn't be late! What if he's hurt?"

Mikasa looked down the road in concern. "If all three of us miss the wagons, we won't eat."

"Then you stay," said Eren, hopping off the cart. "You're as good as two of me anyway."

Wearing that Eren-look (the one that always managed to both be powerfully annoyed and a little bit lost, the one she got whenever the world threatened to separate her from Eren), Mikasa hopped off the cart as well.

"Armin! Hey Armin!" Eren called when they were halfway to the shelter. His voice buzzed, echoing off the narrow walls of the alley. Mikasa glanced behind them, watching the cart rattle away.

"Why isn't he answering?" Eren muttered. Even though he took off before her, Mikasa beat him there when they ran.

"There's no one here," she said, stunned, staring through the carelessly open door.

"Where else would he be?"

Two filthy, green gloves sat in the center of the dusty floor.

"Eren, look," Mikasa said.

Eren said what he knew she was thinking. "He wouldn't just leave them."

Eren looked around, trying to see some detail he would normally miss. Armin could solve mysteries like this, read scenery and people's hearts like the books he so treasured. "This is weird. Someone left the door open. Armin would never."

"Someone with grown-up boots. They forced the door open, too."

Eren, Mikasa and Armin were the last out of the door. The oldest among them in left the shelter after the mission to retake Wall Maria was a young woman who'd been with child at the time of recruitment. All of the rest were children.

Mikasa said nothing, but Eren could hear her parents' murderers in that silence. Eren could hear her jaw clench and her knees lock. Eren felt rage course through his veins like green fire. He needed to find Armin, but didn't have the faintest idea where to start.

_What would Armin do?_

Armin took the time to go to Hannes during the evacuation of Wall Maria.

"We'll go to the police. They'll know where to look. Maybe we can still catch up to whoever did this!"

But the police didn't care to help. Eren regretted the lost time immediately. Why did he think these police would be any better than the guards who hurled insults day and night? "Sounds like your friend ran off. Took the money from your coats and ran. It's a common enough story."

"Armin wouldn't leave us," Mikasa said, voice growing dangerous. Eren realized he didn't know what he could do if she lost her temper. Armin always worked to calm both their flames.

"Well, we'll take a look around, but I'm going to tell you right now, it's not priority."

"A kid is missing! A human being was kidnapped! How can you say that it's not a priority?"

"A refugee with no parents probably ran off to seek his fortune. You said the kid was smart. Maybe he thought he was too smart for the fields."

"It's your fault he lost his grandfather!" Eren shouted.

Mikasa grabbed him firmly by the arm. "We'll go look for him. Maybe they didn't go far."

Just they were warned, the Military Police did not hold their case in priority. In fact, they barely tried, and laughed at Eren's accusation of exactly that.

For a week Eren and Mikasa searched anywhere they thought kidnappers might hide, even got kicked out of a few back rooms of taverns. A week after, Mikasa searched while Eren went back to the field. Armin-in-his head commended the decision. Mikasa was the stronger of the two, better in the fields, but she was also smarter, more observant, less hasty than Eren. Eren broke rocks and swore and got a black eye from one of the overseers for mouthing off one too many times.

The snow began in the third week, and Eren caught a very bad cold. Mikasa wished badly to nurse him, but went to the field to make sure they'd a little food to keep his strength. Rumors circulated that some children in another shelter ran off in spite of the snow. Asking around revealed they were all of Eastern descent. The Military Police did not consider this a lead. The fifth week, the refugees Armin made promises to demanded their end of the bargain.

Neither of them wanted to say it, but they knew enough of the slave trade to understand Armin was likely long gone from their city by now.

Mikasa caught Eren's cold. Eren nursed her when he could.

"We'll find him, Mikasa. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes."

_We'll be a family again._

 

Eren opened his eyes, staring up at that unpleasantly familiar bunk. He let his hand drop to his chest, clenching over his heart, almost like a salute.

"I'll find you, Armin. Just wait a little longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren, Mikasa and Armin's storyline in my head for this universe is basically [Somewhere Out There](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_iRdgGZ6Xc) only a kajillion times worse.


	8. Chapter 8

With midwinter came darkness and drifts of snow, deep and dangerous. Armin spent 12 hours or more a day in his studies, only taking a few breaks to stretch his legs by poking around HQ or following Hanji, bundled in oversize coats. He found the work satisfying, and kept his composure well as he discussed his analysis of previous maneuvers and early drafts of new ones with Commander Smith. With Armin's exit from Erwin's personal life he found their transition to subordinate and commander to go strangely well. Levi and Hanji's apparent acceptance of Armin into their ranks quelled most of the questions that might have followed Armin's arrival, and most of the soldiers ignored his presence. Armin took meals with Petra when he could, and she helped him learn to ride a horse when weather and schedule permitted.

Armin kept a journal of small observations, though nothing in it spoke of any personal feelings, any reminiscences of the past or anything that could be used against him, just in case Erwin or anyone else got curious. The only true information in it was a collection of scratched lines in the back.

Were anyone to invade his privacy enough to ask, Armin would answer that he marked down the days since he agreed to become a civilian advisor to the Scouting Legion. In truth, he thought of these numbers in different terms.

One month since he was forced to have sex with the pig. One month since he murdered the pig. One month since Levi came to the Garden, asking him to abandon the children there.

No matter how much the number of these days grew, the distance between Armin and those events never seemed any further.

On the longest night of winter, activities were suspended early for a feast and a night of games, to be facilitated by an extremely annoyed and reluctant Levi. Hanji worked the other workers into a froth until they convinced Levi to make an impromptu a speech which amounted to "fuck all of you and your disgusting, weird habits and dumb traditions". Many people exchanged small presents. Armin sat by himself while the rest of the legion chatted and made merry, some still lingering over the feast. Armin watched them with a small, detached smile, drinking in their cheer and optimism. He nearly jumped in surprised when Petra approached.

"For you," she said, pushing a small package of old newspaper and string into Armin's hands.

"Petra! I didn't get you anything, I didn't get anyone anything! And you went through all this trouble of wrapping it?" Armin's words fell out of him in a nervous rush, spilling into the upper octaves.

"Don't worry about it, Armin. They're not exactly paying you a fortune, are they?"

"They're not paying you that much either," Armin muttered, cheeks flushing. "I haven't done anything to deserve this."

"You've worked hard. Just open it already, you idiot!"

Armin worked the knot from the bit of string, pulling open the package apart. Inside the old, wrinkled newsprint sat a pair of soft gloves, knit with fine, tight yarn in a spring green. Armin hiccuped, trying to force breath into unwilling lungs.

"Try them on, check if they fit! I hope the color's alright, I noticed you like that vest of yours in that color."

Armin tried one on obediently, stretching his fingers.

"These are perfect." (Nothing like the gloves that were too big, that smelled of mucking the stables, left on the floor of the refugee shelter.) "I don't understand. Did you knit them yourself, Petra?"

"Actually, it was Oluo," Petra said with a conspiratorial smirk. "You wouldn't believe it from the clumsy way he gets around, but he's nimble with his fingers. He usually gets overbooked with orders for the solstice - he'll do it for the price of the supplies and the right to call in a few favors. But he owed me, so I got to the top of his list!"

"Thank you." Armin barely fought the tears forming in his eyes. He would consider himself lucky if this generous gift didn't cause him to have a massive fit, the sort that forced soldiers into early retirement. He felt the past reach for his ankle, pulling him beneath the roiling, black water of ugly memory.

"Oh, Armin," Petra said gently, squeezing his arm. "Are you okay?"

"I haven't received a gift like this in a long time," Armin admitted. He wasn't exactly lying. He hadn't received a gift without strings attached since being separated from Eren and Mikasa. "I can't believe it, I didn't think anyone would... I didn't even think to get anyone anything."

"You'll just have to make sure to get everyone great presents next year! I bet a lot more people will want to suck up to you once we start utilizing your work on the field."

Armin felt the tears slide down his cheeks. He could not speak his true thoughts: that he did not want to be touched, even by a friend like her, that he loved her gloves but hated what they reminded him of. He could not tell her how he admired her stubborn optimism that everyone he might want to give a gift to would be alive this time next year.

"Please thank Oluo for me," Armin said falteringly, wiping his face with the heel of his palm, not wanting to dirty his gloves with his own tears. "I couldn't bear to cry in front of him."

"He's not as bad as he looks."

Armin peered across the room, where the elite soldier was engaged in some heavy debate with Gunther Schultz, covering him with a fine spray of spittle in the process. His cravat waggled with each vine-soaked annunciation. "He's not?"

"Well," Petra smirked, "It would be hard not to be."

 

Erwin listened to the laughter and cheerful chatter of the aristocracy, floating up toward cavernous ceilings like the hot air it was. One of his least favorite duties as commander of the Scouting Legion was to attend fancy dress events thrown by his sponsors. Even if it meant a day's ride and a day's work lost, even if he didn't care for the company, even he should be with his soldiers, bearing their sadness and blame for another abysmal mission. He would far rather be at the solstice party thrown by his soldiers than adrift in a sea of velvet and hypocrisy. Alas, he had an image to uphold; one of gratitude, watching those beloved of the king and safe behind the walls bite into flesh with loud, careless teeth that reminded him far too much of titans making quick work of his soldiers. They were every bit as careless with lives, yet all too happy to call Erwin a man leading futile lambs to slaughter. They did not care to look to future so long as their own stomachs were full, straining their belts and buttons.

He kept to one side of the event, occasionally danced with the daughter of this or that politician or lord, and listened to the gossips and fears that gradually loosed as cups were drained. He did not smile much, as that tended to unnerve people, and he did not really want anyone to mistake his presence for one of enjoyment. He worried a few drops of vine, warm in a crystal goblet, listening to two nobles gossip.

"--Have you seen the Lady Roth?"

"Oh, she's one of those commoners who was granted a noble title? All for a hefty donation, I'm sure."

"If they allow the likes of her, they'll allow simply anyone. Doesn't it mean anything to join the aristocratic class any longer?"

Erwin might have held some modicum for the upwardly mobile Lady Roth under other circumstances: she was a vibrant woman, unable to grasp how gaudy her clothes were, how overly loud her laugh. She did not even have enough perspective to understand she was being mocked, not welcomed. He might have pitied her situation at least a little had he not recognized her as the former madam of the Garden, one who kept young Armin captive, and put children even younger than he to work. Most of all he might have simply ignored her presence, but they locked eyes and he knew she could not be diverted.

"Is that Humanity's Hope, Commander Erwin Smith?" she asked in an extremely unconvincing parody of shock. "Quick! Someone must introduce me!"

In the end the end it was the hostess of the party, Marquise Dressel who once tried to donate old jewelry instead of funds to Erwin's cause, who did the honors.

"This is Lady Roth. An entrepreneur, newly arrived to our way of life."

'Our', she said, as if Erwin participated.

"And as you must already know, this is Commander Smith. I am one of Erwin's biggest patrons."

Which didn't really give her the right to call him by his first name, but Erwin bowed anyway, as loyal as ever to the line of coins that kept his soldiers armed, clothed and fed.

Lady Roth batted a fan in front of her face that would have been more suited to a girl half her age. "Why, Commander Smith, I do believe we've met after all!"

The crowd, mostly content to completely dismiss Lady Roth, suddenly took an interest. Each of them knew exactly what sort of entrepreneur the so-called lady was involved with, and they were eager to hear what Erwin might have to do with it. Erwin cursed his own indiscretion, even if it had gained him Armin's brilliant mind: these were men and women eager to find any means to tarnish his shine, to excuse their own failure to support his cause. His estimates on when this information would get to the public were clearly too conservative. Erwin bowed to her for exactly the appropriate amount of time and did not linger.

"Have we?"

"You took my favorite little orphan away! I cried for days!" Lady Roth's voice raised at loud, theatrical intervals. 

Erwin could feel the weight of a hundred noble gazes on him. He spoke carefully. "I hired him to consult on strategy. The young man is a genius, in spite of what he's been through. Not as your ward, of course, but in Shiganshina, and the refugee camps, and having run away from captivity from kidnappers as a child... You were so very kind to take him in after all of that." Erwin left the hint of a blade in his last few words, sharp, pointed toward her.

"Well, you seemed so fond of the boy." A volley back. "You visited him so often." Erwin looked at her closely. She wore heavy, pancake white make up and heavy rouge, though he could not see any sign of age or flaw it might be covering. He assumed her to be older than him when they met, considering the success of her establishment, but now he wondered if she was not much older than he. She wore great, false eyelashes of dyed feathers, rimming hazel eyes that mimicked the greenery of the decorations around her.

Not for the first time in one of these situations, Erwin wished for Levi. Not necessarily his graceful way with words or social finesse, but his knowledge on what it would have taken for a former brothel madam to ascend to this point. For his knowledge on how she might have come by a cat house in the first place, young as she seemed to be. He should have been paying more attention to the woman all along. She truly kept her secrets close.

"Only impressed. At the age of 15, he's old enough to have been one of my soldiers, should he have entered training at the proper time. When I first met him in the marketplace that day, he spoke highly of you. I'm glad you were there to help cultivate his mind."

"I'm glad to help in some small way," Lady Roth said. "Can we speak somewhere private, so you might tell me how my darling boy is doing?"

Someone's unconvincing impression of a discreet cough echoed throughout the ballroom. The crowd scattered like insects from under an upturned log. Erwin offered his arm and found a quiet corner where they might remain undisturbed, yet within sight of prying eyes. With this much scandal already suggested by their acquaintance, the last thing he needed to do was be seen going somewhere with her alone.

"I have a letter for Hyacinth," Lady Roth said, "I wanted him to know that he always has a place with me if he tires of the military life, or the harshness of his commander."

Lady Roth dangled the letter in front of him by her fingertips. Erwin held his hand out, palm up, until she placed the letter there. The handwriting on the letter indeed read 'Hyacinth', sealed with a red wax seal in the shape of a rose. She must have been expecting his presence at the party and planned this all ahead of time.

"You might have approached me during the after-supper gift exchange," Erwin said. "It would not have caused a scene for either of us."

Lady Roth raised a perfectly painted-on eyebrow. "I might have," she said.

Erwin tucked the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket, covering his heartbeat.

 

Armin woke to the sound of a horse moving through the snow. He bumped his head against the window pane he'd fallen asleep against a few hours before. He stretched gingerly. Each muscle of his legs creaked as he re-gathered his blanket around his shoulders and searched for the book that fell from his lap. After locating it and safely placing on the bed, he glanced outside: Erwin had returned.

"It's a little cute, how you wait for him every time he's gone. But since you won't be going on missions, you should probably learn not to worry so much or you won't get any real sleep when spring comes."

Armin looked over to Petra, who seemed remarkably refreshed for all the vine he witnessed her drinking last night. She sat bent over her desk, a pen in hand. Another letter to her father, no doubt. Or perhaps thank you notes for the many gifts she received. He wouldn't put it past her.

Armin wondered what reply she expected from him. He rubbed raised, smooth skin on his wrist absently. "I'm not cute," he said, studying the movement of his own thumb.

"Maybe the word I was looking for was 'pitiable'," Petra smirked. "Have you ever considered someone a little closer to your age?"

"Are you hitting on me, Petra?"

Petra snorted, glancing out the window. "If you get your clothes on, you might run down to meet him."

"I'll wait until he sends for me."

"He might not."

"He will," Armin said. "I just have a feeling."

Petra missed how Erwin looked up to the window for just a moment. Armin sent a smile down to him. In spite of their distance, he was certain Erwin could see and return it.

 

Erwin called Armin into his office a little less than an hour after he returned. Not enough time for a bath, though he'd shaved and changed his clothes. Armin also did his best to look as if this meeting meant nothing to him, though he daubed a little lavender oil behind his ears and on his wrists.

Armin rested one hand on the desk, leaning into Erwin's space. "So, did your resolve finally break? Or are you here to tell me some other whore from Sina's taken my place?" He tried to turn to the lamplight for his most attractive angle, but found himself distracted at the sight of Erwin up close. The man still pulled his attention, no longer his client but not his commander either, not really. Armin thought of pressing his lips to Erwin's high cheekbones, memorizing the particular feeling of his skin and the taste of his breath. He wet his lips, pursed them for the storm of surrendering kisses he was so sure he'd see soon.

"Neither. I have something for you."

"Is it what I've asked for? Because if it is, you'll like how I'll thank you." A slow smirk spread over Armin's features.

Erwin sat back in his hair, fingers clasped in front of his face. He could smell Armin's lavender. It agitated him, being called back to that night and the bath and the morning after. "I don't give those kind of gifts."

"Isn't that how we met?"

"I didn't think you romanticized those kind of things."

Armin's grin twitched. "No, of course not. I'm like you. I can't afford sentiment."

"That's exactly what I need from you."

"Then why are you giving me a gift, exactly, if not for sentiment?"

Rather than reply, Erwin turned to retrieve his gift from its spot behind the desk.

In front of Armin lay a cane of a polished black wood. Walnut, perhaps - an expensive wood, for certain. It was the sort of fine thing lords with too much money carried about, a small combat against arthritis or a bad knee, but more of an accessory than a crutch. Inlaid right below the handle was a small silver plate bearing the wings of freedom, and the initials E.S.

"You're giving me a crutch? A hand-me-down crutch?" Armin's throat seized. "No wonder you haven't kept any lovers! Any lover would slap you for this sort of gift!"

"I never said it was a gift, I just said it was for you. Pick it up."

Conflict danced over Armin's face. Forcing his hands out of fists, he picked up the cane, testing its weight in his hands.

"Run your fingers under the handle. Feel that bit of metal?"

Armin pushed a small tab of metal beneath the handle. With a small click, a small, very sharp blade extended from the bottom of the cane. It wouldn't be good for much but stabbing someone in the foot or possibly hamstringing them, but it could buy time someday. The weight of the cane wasn't too heavy for him, though clearly meant for much-taller Erwin.

"Someone gave you this?" Armin asked, testing and re-testing the switch.

"A gift from my dear hostess last night, Marquise Dressel. Even when I insist all I want from our patrons is funding, sometimes they insist on elaborate gifts as a show of generosity. Because it's been customized, it's not much good to try and sell second hand. I thought you could benefit the most from it, until such a time as I may need it back."

"Do you expect to live long enough for your knees to give out or your arthritis to pain you?"

"No," Erwin said frankly.

"I don't think Marquise Dressel thinks you do either. I think she wants to get you arrested or something. Just imagine what they could accuse you of if they found you with this someday."

"I don't attempt to understand the nobility," Erwin said, "It's just my job to take their money."

Laughter bubbled from Armin. "In essence, you're their whore." Finally, he tested the cane, leaning both hands on it and drumming his fingers. He looked impish, a child with a dangerous toy.

"If that's what it takes."

"I like that you're not noble. Not in any sense of the term."

Armin felt Erwin staring at him, not mentally undressing him so much as making a study. He straightened his back and lifted his chin, staring at some point behind the taller man.

"I'm sorry if you felt my giving you this was an insult, but I wanted you to have it. We can't give you a cloak, but I want you to know I consider you as worthy of these wings as anyone else."

"So much for not being sentimental. I haven't done anything yet."

"Be worthy of it."

Armin thought of green gloves, still tucked away safely with his items in his room. "I'm working on that. Is that all you wanted?"

"I want you back in the morning to go over plans for our first spring missions."

"The ones departing from Trost, right?"

"Correct."

Armin nodded, curling his fingers around the handle of his cane. "May I ask you one thing?"

"Keep it brief."

"Did you go blow off steam in Wall Sina while you were gone?"

"No," Erwin said. "Though that is not your business."

Armin leaned the cane against the desk. He hoisted himself atop the desk in a smooth motion. He crawled across it. When he perched on the other side, he grasped each tail of Erwin's bolo tie, pulling him closer.

Erwin didn't resist. Armin tilted his face up, close enough to kiss.

"It is, absolutely, by definition," Armin breathed, "My business."

Erwin dared not move. Any word spoken, any muscle twitch was sure to push his lips against Armin's and that was not something he could do right now. Or ever again. Heat rushed between his legs. If Armin looked down he'd find him sporting half a stack, contradicting every word he spoke against being involved with him.

He could cross this line again so easily. Armin kept pushing him, seeing if he could gain traction, even control, of the situation. A better man would stop things now. A better man would send Armin away to somewhere further within the walls, to receive an education and better serve the king. A better man would not be relieved at the prospect of this happening again, nor disappointed at the thought that it could end any time.

But Armin stopped, swinging his legs around to the other side. A few papers fluttered off Erwin's desk. Ignoring the mess he made, Armin made rather a show of adjusting himself before hopping off the desk. He took the cane with him, clicking against the polished wood as he left the room without being dismissed.

Erwin bent down to pick up the papers Armin knocked off the desk. He unlocked his left topmost drawer of the desk. Inside the drawer sat Lady Roth's letter, seal broken. Erwin stowed the papers above it and locked the drawer, tucking the key out of sight for the time being.

Darkness fell early this time of year. He could see the snow outside illuminated gold by his window, meandering slowly from the heavens, silent and alone in the black until disappearing into all that white.


	9. Chapter 9

Spring approached. The world pulled back its cloak of white, revealing the bare shoulders of hills and roads. The Scouting Legion moved back to one of their less remote headquarters, closer to civilization. Erwin noticed Armin smiling and laughing more, and joining Petra and a few others on trips into town. Little crowns and necklaces of flowers began to appear on those who knew Armin's favor, Petra, Doctor Van Hout, Hanji, Erwin even saw Oluo sporting one once. The only ones not gifted these little favors were Levi and Erwin himself, though he could guess the reasons for that. For a few weeks, the Scouting Legion could enjoy the cloying, romantic scent of flowers.

Their first venture outside the walls was a roaring success by their standards. They laid down supplies at a far checkpoint and their losses were mostly numbered among the inexperienced. Petra sat with one of the injured recruits who probably wouldn't make it. Petra managed to snatch her from certain death, though the woman's left leg now resided in the belly of a titan. Cases like this rarely made it, even with the efficient application of a tourniquet. Even if they frequently risked the life of a doctor outside the Walls, the delay of performing a surgery would be fatal for everyone. Thus, they kept one of their most precious assets out of harm's way. All they could do was ride hard and fast, knowing Doctor Van Hout waited for them in Trost.

Erwin heard the young woman - Myra Ellen Meyer, if he recalled correctly - whispering Wallist prayers. He couldn't hold it against her now, she'd been raised Wallist and in these moments, she must wonder if she was wrong to try and venture outside. As they loaded Meyer up, bleeding, shaking and pale, Levi spoke a few words of encouragement to her, telling her she'd done well. Petra, who lost her horse during procedures, made the attempt to tend her.

"Your flowers... they're so pretty..." Meyer whispered.

"Here, you can wear them," Petra replied. "And we'll ask Armin to make you one of your own when we get back."

Wall Rose stood solemnly in the distance, never seeming to get any closer. Erwin scanned the horizon on either side for signs of titans. For the time being, they'd outrun them.

"But I'm not his friend..."

"He told me once how lovely yellow flowers would look in coal black hair like yours," Petra said, "We'll hold him to that."

"I'd like that."

The buttercups would not bloom for three weeks, if not later. In early summer, these hills would be resplendent with them with no farmers to quell the spread in favor of better grazing plants.

"Meyer," Petra said abruptly. "Cadet Meyer? Marianna, speak to me. Report." No sound could be heard save the squeak of wagon wheels and the strike of hooves against ground. To everyone and no one in particular Petra said, "Marianna is gone."

Marianna Meyer. When could he make time to dictate a letter of condolence to her family? Or would he just go with the form letter and sign it? Either way, he would fail to mention he couldn't remember her name correctly.

In the distance, a cluster of purple hyacinth stretched toward the sky. Erwin never noticed how fragrant the air out here could be. The thick scent of blood always seemed to overwhelm it.

 

As missions wore on, the laughter in Armin's eyes that blossomed with spring slowly faded. He watched the Scouting Legion return greatly diminished in number each time. He work with the frenzied desperation all new recruits did when they realized not everyone could be saved, when they thought some small detail might delay the inevitable. Erwin hoped Hanji could help him make peace with it, or at least help channel the energy properly. Though once he dressed Armin's wounds and touched him gently, he also took things from him which could not be replaced. Erwin knew himself to be incapable of giving comfort.

Spring's soft colors were starting to hint at summer's bold palate on the eve of another mission departing from Trost. This one would be particularly taxing, as rather than heading straight home to rest, supply and begin another mission, Erwin would gather recruits from the 104th training legion upon returning. Having been rained out of a prior mission, the timing was not ideal, but the Scouting Legion could not really afford to lose a few days waiting for recruits. They'd already lose time training them later.

A knock at the door jolted Erwin from a deep sleep. It wasn't Levi's obtrusive, demanding rap, nor Hanji's overzealous patter. Mike only knocked three times, even and ponderous, and Doctor Van Hout never visited his personal quarters.

So it could only be Armin standing at the door. He wore his clothes for the day, buttoned down and straight-backed as any soldier. He held his left hand behind his back, his right holding his cane.

"Did you need something, Arlert?" Erwin asked, attempting to establish distance between them.

"I brought you this." Armin held out a small pray of larkspur, tied with a white ribbon. Purple, white, pink and blue. "I was going to get you hyacinth, but..." He shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't find any growing nearby."

Erwin took the flowers, examining them. "I'll wear it under my clothes."

"At your own risk. It might give you a rash, though."

Ignoring the warning, Erwin tucked the flowers behind his ear. "Instead of hyacinth, you gave me poison flowers?" He wasn't sure why this made him chuckle.

"Hyacinths are poisonous too," Armin said as-a-matter-of-fact. "I just figured I should make it something so poisonous that if a titan ate you, it would spit you out."

"Is that the reason for your flower crowns?"

"It's a theory I tried to have Hanji test, but we couldn't really determine if the titans had a reaction to it or not. They were as disinterested in flowers as they were everything not human. The likelihood is that they wouldn't be able to tell the difference." Armin went quiet. "And yet..."

"And yet?"

"If I can't protect you with my own body, and all I have to do here when you're gone is study and plan, I feel a little better knowing all of you have something of mine to take with you. And even if it doesn't help, I hope it lifts your spirits."

Erwin smiled. "Thank you."

Silence. Then Armin confessed, hushed and secretive, "I want to go outside the Walls with you."

"You know why that can't be allowed."

"I know." Armin sucked on his lower lip a moment, then spoke. "Could I ride out to Trost and wait for you there? I could help Doctor Van Hout with whatever she needs waiting for your return. Besides, it would do me good to understand what the supplies and layout of the city look like."

Erwin considered the request briefly. Armin never expressed any interest in Trost before, perfectly happy to stay home and complete paperwork. "The 104th training regiment will be disbanding there right around that time. Is there someone you're hoping to see? Perhaps from Shiganshina?"

"You've found me out," Armin said with a small smirk, "I'm going to find an attractive young soldier who appreciates me and isn't intimidated by me in bed. So you'll have to make sure to hurry back from the mission before I run off."

"Go ahead," Erwin said. His voice did not come out as steadily as he would have liked. Though hardly noticeable, surely Armin would hear even the slightest waver. "Find someone and get married. Leave this life behind. Start life anew. Your plans have already saved a dozen of my men. It's enough, if you want to retire. You have my blessing."

Armin reached out to adjust Erwin's flowers. "I told you I want to be the one person you don't lie to."

"And yet you're here, lying to my face."

"Did you really expect better from me?" In spite of the difference in their height, Armin always held Erwin's gaze without hesitation. Erwin made a study of his face, his soft cheeks and upturned nose so innocently contrary to the venom inside him.

"If you told me what you needed, I could assist you in finding it."

"I don't need to depend on you for that."

"But you must need me for something if you're attempting to incite my ego or jealousy."

"I wonder," Armin breathed.

"I wonder," Erwin replied, raising an eyebrow.

"If you want to kiss me, you should kiss me."

Erwin traced the line of Armin's chin with his thumb, tilting his face upward. His thumb came to rest over the lips he so adored during their first meeting. The tip of Armin's tongue peeked out to touch the pad of his thumb. In the moment it took to move his thumb aside their mouths met. Armin's lips barely parted before Erwin's tongue thrust past them. Armin carded fingers through Erwin's hair, curled them so he couldn't escape. Not that he had much desire to, not when Armin welcomed and accepted him and made the tiniest, happiest noise in his voice. They were only barely connected by their mouths, Erwin's hands barely touching Armin's shoulders, yet Erwin knew he'd be fully hard in just a few moments of this.

A small stirring at the end of the hall startled them both from the kiss.

"Someone saw us," Armin whispered, playing with Erwin's bolo. "You might as well invite me in, since that's the conclusion they'll come to anyway."

"Absolutely not," Erwin spoke low. "We don't know what they saw, or who saw it."

Armin looked between Erwin's legs. "Are you certain?" he asked with an arched brow.

"Leave," Erwin said.

"Will you let me come to Trost?"

"I would have regardless."

Armin let each end of Erwin's tie slip from his fingers.

"See you then."

Erwin let go, all but bodily shoving Armin from his doorway. He closed the door as soon as Armin cleared it. He stood for a moment, leaning his back against the door as if trying to hold off an invading titan. Useless.

The monster resided on this side.

 

Levi knew his morning was about to turn to shit when Petra pulled him aside after breakfast. She'd been quiet during the meal, skipping her usual verbal spar with Oluo. Her eyes were red, her usually-easy smiles few all morning.

"Squad Leader, can I speak with you in private?"

Gunther elbowed Oluo. The rest of the squad began muttering amidst themselves. They probably had their theories on why Petra would want Levi alone, the type of gossip Levi had no interest in dignifying with acknowledgment.

Knowing Petra would not make such a request lightly, Levi nodded. "I'm going to clean out some of the upstairs rooms." Technically this was a chore that could wait until they had new recruits to boss around, but those areas would at least be deserted right now. They wouldn't have much time before disembarking for Trost.

Petra closed the door behind them when they reached an upstairs room. Levi crossed his arms. "Don't tell me this is about some particularly magnificent shit you took. That's the kind of thing you can share with the whole squad."

"Squad Leader, I have reason to believe..." Petra broke off, rubbing her temples. "Armin and Commander Smith..."

Levi pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, halting the grunt of distaste he wanted to give voice to.

"I've always respected the Commander, and followed him without question..." Petra hesitated.

"Spit it out, Petra."

"There's something very inappropriate going on. That the commander would do anything with someone under his command, civilian or not, is disgusting! It's - it's beyond wrong."

"And what do you expect me to do about that?"

"...You knew," Petra realized with palpable disappointment. "Is that why the commander brought him here?"

"That brat is creepy, but he's one of the best strategists I've worked with." Levi scowled, walking over to the window. "He's already saved at least a dozen lives."

"You didn't deny my question." Petra watched her words hang in chilly air in a diminutive cloud. No one bothered to bring in braziers for these unused rooms.

Levi turned to face her, as stone-faced as ever. "Why did you join the Survey Corps?"

"Because I've pledged myself, heart and soul, to humanity's salvation," Petra whispered.

"I didn't hear anything in that about giving a fuck about other people's sex lives, as disgusting as they might be."

"You don't care in the least bit if your _friend_ is forcing Armin into something? After what he's been through? A doctor had to care for him for weeks!"

"Has Armin ever complained to you about this? Is this effecting his work?"

"Armin is young enough that he should be protected, regardless of his feelings," Petra countered. "And even if he has a crush on the commander, that's no excuse for the commander's behavior. A good person would never sleep with his subordinate, let alone one half his age!"

"If we allowed only good people to enlist, the Survey Corps would've disbanded decades ago. Is that all, Rall, or did you have some other petty complaints? Maybe about the shitty food, or the state of the toilets?"

"The toilets are always spotless," Petra replied, mouth agape. "Squad leader, you can't possibly approve of this."

"Approval counts for jack shit. Arlert is a good tactician, and Commander Smith is our leader. Unless this kid comes crying to you that the old man's a rapist who can't keep his hands off him, you mind your own fucking business."

Petra stood wringing her hands in silence. "I thought we were better than this. Better than the Wall Garrison and the Military Police."

"If you'd like to take your chances with being a drunken, whore-mongering piece of shit, I'd be happy to go with you myself to the commander and get him to write you a letter of recommendation with a request to transfer. But we need you here. Our mission is priority. Nothing else matters."

"Yes sir."

"Go get your gear ready, we're riding soon."

"Yes sir." Petra paused near the door. "You're wrong, though."

Levi said nothing.

"There _are_ many good people in the Survey Corps," Petra said, and left.

 

Petra returned to the room she shared with Armin. She stood in the doorway, watching the young man pack away his meager belongings. Though neither of them kept any sentimental trinkets to denote their presence, she'd come to think of this room as theirs. All this time she looked on this space with fondness, but it now occurred that this place might be a prison to Armin, and she one of his hapless jailers.

"I can get you away from him, from this," Petra spoke quietly. "I know you haven't any real reason to trust or believe in me, since I've been oblivious this whole time, but--"

"So you're the one who saw us." Armin stood with his back to Petra, holding the gloves she gave him. He didn't know why he thought to pack them, the weather was no longer cold enough to wear them. "I can't leave. I would be betraying humanity if I didn't use my skills. I refuse to have lived over half of my life as a waste of space. I _must_ help now."

"Is that what Commander Smith told you?" Petra's fingers clenched into fists.

"No. That's how I've always felt." Armin dropped the gloves into his shoulder bag.

"You should go meet my father, while we're on our mission. He's a good man."

"Most are until you get their pants off."

"I wouldn't let you say such a thing about him if this were any other conversation," Petra said evenly. "Please stay in my room at the house instead of at the barracks, have some real rest and privacy. My father is good-hearted and never rose a hand to me, and rarely raised his voice. He would surely love having someone to help fill that empty house, and he could help find you an apprenticeship in town."

Armin sat down on the bed, finally turning to face Petra. His eyes were vacant as those dark days when she first met him, before his wounds healed enough to let him out of bed into fresh air. Maybe now, like then, Armin attempted to escape some great pain.

"Do you ever sit and think about what your life could have been like if only a few things were different?" Armin breathed.

"No," Petra admitted, "But I haven't had your life."

"I wonder what could of person I would have been, who I would have met. I probably would've washed out in training, though. I've never been very strong. And then I think about the people who haven't died because I'm here now. I would take your offer if I couldn't see my duty clearly. Even though I'd hate to be away from Erwin, for both our sakes it'd be better if I stayed away."

"We're not such monsters that we need to keep civilians here against their will," Petra said, "There's no need for us to sacrifice our decency."

"Levi's pretty obsessed with cleaning, isn't it?" Armin posed an abrupt question.

"I suppose, why?"

"Sometimes there's blood under Hanji's nails, but never his."

Petra stared at Armin, trying to read some hint the young man was joking.

"Never mind," Armin said. "I've made my decision. Erwin isn't doing anything to me. I've been trying to get him in bed as thanks for taking me from where I was and giving me such an important job, but he's been resistant. That's what you saw last night."

"Still, the fact he's put you in such a position..."

"Rather than putting in front of titans to die?"

Petra closed her mouth.

"You're not wrong," Armin said after a long moment. "You've drawn your moral lines surprisingly straight and high. As for me, I don't have them, and neither does Erwin. And we'll win this war because of that. We're a perfect match."

Petra opened her mouth, though she struggled to make the shape of the sounds she wanted. "Do you think you're in love with him?"

"I think I would be if I were capable of such a thing," Armin said with a disaffected shrug.

"Everyone is capable of love."

Armin stood up, really examining Petra. Her round, soft face belied the determined set of her jaw, the stubborn way she pressed her lips together.

"Maybe you're right. The men who raped me, used me - most of them had children and families. Surely if they did not love me, they loved _someone_ other than themselves. Though maybe they didn't, considering what part they often asked me to play."

Petra closed her eyes briefly. It might've hurt less if Armin's words came out with bitter sharpness, instead gentle defeat. "Is the commander among those that hurt you?" Petra asked.

"What are you trying to get me to say about him?" Armin's voice raised a fraction with threat. "He saw I was needed here. Do the particulars really matter?"

"It does matter. If you're here because you want to be, fine. But your body is yours. That's why a crime if anyone did anything to it against your will."

"My body is..." Armin looked ill. "I - I don't think..."

"Please," Petra said, feeling each vowel like a weight she fought to get off her tongue, "Consider what I've offered you."

"I'll go meet your father, since it means so much to you. You'll have Levi and Hanji to contend with if I leave, though. The commander's already made it quite clear that I can move on whenever I like. My responsibility isn't only to him."

Petra paused. "Thank you."

Armin tilted his head. "Do you really believe it? That everyone is capable of love?"

Petra felt the back of her throat burn with tears she'd never allow to surface. "Absolutely."

"Are you sure that's not just a lie to keep yourself from being too lonely?"

"You're just being nasty for the sake of it now, aren't you?" Petra scolded.

"I don't know." Armin wandered to his chair at the window and sat down, looking into the courtyard. "Do you think Erwin could ever love me?"

"If I said no at this point, it'd make me a huge hypocrite," Petra admitted. "But affairs between officers and their subordinates are forbidden for a reason. They're risky, especially in the Survey Corps. You're young, you have your life ahead of you. There's no reason to rush into something that's going to end badly."

"Doesn't saying that make you a huge hypocrite too?"

"Don't be a brat," Petra said fondly. She packed her things without saying more.

 

Armin stood with Erwin on top of Wall Rose, looking out to the territories his home once belonged to. It took a little convincing for Armin to be allowed this high, but Erwin insisted to the Wall Garrison that Armin needed to see out there for tactical purposes.

The great, naked monsters that haunted Armin's nightmares stood clawing and clambering like mute, hostile children. Armin swallowed down the lump in his throat, staring instead at the horizon, trying to imagine all of the mystery and promise out there.

They stood side by side, listening to the strange rhythms of the world.

"How many times did you purchase my body?" Armin asked, only loud enough to be heard over the wind.

"Three times, wasn't it?"

"That sounds right."

Armin reached out. His fingertips touched the back of Erwin's hand. Erwin did not respond. Armin let his hand drop back to his side. They couldn't be up here long, and they weren't alone: someone from the Wall Garrison needed to be there to operate the lift and allow them down. She seemed to be allowing them privacy in their conversation, settling down to watch over the bustling town far enough away she couldn't listen in.

"I never saw a single coin of the money you paid her," Armin said, tapping his cane against the stone. "Which means that technically, you owe me."

"Would you like me to pay you that amount?" Erwin asked wryly. "Perhaps with some interest?"

Armin shook his head. "That's not what I want. I want your body."

"This sounds like an indecent arrangement."

"No, this is what's going to make it right. Make it fair between us, once and for all. Three for three, and then it's over between us."

Erwin took a long time considering his answer. "If that's what it takes to finish things, then we can find a way."

"You understands what this means, right? You have to bring your body back to me alive and well." Armin's voice contained a tremble he hoped Erwin didn't notice. Knowing Erwin, he heard and took note.

"You're the one who keeps sending me outside."

"It can't be helped. Your observations are the best for helping me write strategies. And it's good for morale when you're out there."

Erwin made no noise to agree or disagree, simply staring out to the distance.

"You started this. You took my body for your own. You took ownership of something that wasn't yours. So it's only fair. You owe me at least that."

"Which of us are you trying to convince?"

Fire flared up in Armin's belly. Erwin couldn't know his real motivation to leave. "Kiss me. Now."

To his shock, Erwin complied. A brief but heated kiss, cupping Armin's chin, licking over his lips. "Good enough?" he asked as he withdrew.

"You owe me," Armin repeated, cheeks flushed and gaze fierce. "So come back alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of the 11th, this story is one year old. :')
> 
> I'm sorry there wasn't smut in this chapter! There will be smut in this story again, I promise!


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